Square Mile
by Machy10
Summary: A sequel to Silvertongue. George, Edie and the Gunner plan to destroy the Darkness in the London Stone once and for all. A shadowy girl called Nick has some information for them that might be able to help.
1. Smoke

The scuffed black shoes were walking steadily across the dry, cobbled streets. It was the dead of night, an owl perched on a nearby street lamp and rats scurried between bins. The tall figure stopped and peered around the corner. He heard shouting in the distance. A dog was barking. The city was awakening to panic. His eyes crept slowly round the corner focusing on the house at the end of the street. Someone raced past him carrying a bucket, unaware of the figure he'd almost bumped into. Slowly the man in the shadows walked forward so he was yards away from the door. His skin began to blister in the heat. The whole house was ablaze with fire. The small man had thrown the bucket of water into one of the windows with little effect. He was wasting his time. He ran away back down the street to get help.

The large man stood watching. Nobody could save this house. The black wooden beams were being ravaged by smoke and the white walls were being stripped by the heat. The dazzling vivid light reflected into his eyes. There was a stir behind him; a wooden stall had fallen over, pushed by two men in a scrap heap. They were clawing at each other whilst two women pleaded for them to stop. The man by the fire liked this. It was a good distraction. He imagined this chaos to be spreading all across the city. What would be left of it was anyone's guess. He walked further towards the door and took a last big gulp of clean air before he entered the burning building. He didn't have much time; the beams weren't holding the weight of the top floor. _He would have to be quick_.

He found himself in the kitchen and pulled a towel across his face. The smoke was already clutching at his throat and eyes. He coughed. He was chocking. His mouth was so dry. He searched around with his hands, feeling his way across the walls towards the stairs. He couldn't see further than his elbows. He walked up the stairs, the floorboards creaking beneath his feet. _He really didn't have much time._ He reached the landing and heard a small cry from the room to the right, he needed to get this correct. He tried the door, wrenching his hand away when it burnt him, but the touch was enough to tell him that it was locked. The flames were wrapping around the door frame but he needed to enter. He lashed out with one foot and surprisingly the door came away freely and hit the floor sending up a spray of amber fragments. The figure guarded his face with his hands and moved into the room, the creaking all around him getting louder. His lungs were crying out for oxygen, the black fumes pummelled the inside of his chest. His eyes were so full of scattered ashes that he almost missed the small, crouching figure in the corner of the room.

A young, frightened girl lay whimpering, frozen to the spot. The man quickly moved over and knelt down reaching out a hand to her. For a second she didn't move, but then coughed and extended he arm. The man took off his coat and took hold of the little, hot arm. He wrapped the coat around the child and took off carrying her quickly down the stairs. He left the building hearing something collapse, whilst seeing a gather of people running down the street towards him. Coughing and spluttering he moved into the shadows of the neighbouring house. The people were so preoccupied with the job at hand that they didn't see the tall man and a small girl wrapped up come out of the house. Nor did they hear the sound of them gasping for air over the roar of the flames. He took a while to recuperate then turned and walked away from the house, now crumpling inwards by its own mass: now nothing more than a heap of broken wood, destroyed furniture, smashed cutlery and lost memories. The man looked downwards at the frail load he was clutching. The young girl's eyes were closed. She was unconscious and barely breathing, her body was in spasms clutching at shallow breaths. But she was alive. She would recover in time. That was most important. She was alive.


	2. Adventure

George was sitting in the headmaster's office. He was used to this room. The pale salmon coloured walls felt like it was draining all the strength out of him. It clashed with the carpet; a thick red coating that almost buried his feet completely. He had to resist swinging around on the swivel chair that he'd been told to sit on. He was bored out of his skull.

_How long had he been sitting here?_

Mr Merriot had been talking for a while now but George wasn't taking any of it in. Every so often glimpses of the conversation became focused but then swam through his mind and dissolved. Neither of them wanted this conversation. Mr Merriot sighed. He understood boys like George; the lonely kid who didn't really 'get' how to fit in with the others. Mr Merriot used to be like that but the incident in the museum made him frustrated and unsympathetic. George made a fool out of himself, kicked up a fuss. He made himself as easy target. Worse, he embarrassed the school's name.

Mr Merriot had been away for the past week with illness. It was his first day back today and all Mr Killingbeck had done since his arrival was pester on about the kid who had caused a stir at the museum. This was the first order of the day; to deal with this kid and it made him tired. He had so much more to be getting on with.

As he talked, he watched the boy sitting very quietly in his chair, he was glad the boy was taking it all in. It made a change from all the rude boys who would answer back and storm out in a fume.

"-this incident. I hope you think over what I've said and I don't want to see you involved in anything like this again. Okay?"

The Head Teacher had finished. George had heard this last sentence and with a brief acknowledgment left the office without another word. He wasn't angry with his principle. Of course George knew that none of it was his fault in the first place and so the pointless lecture he just sat through shouldn't have happened. At least Mr Merriot didn't get too annoyed. Mr Killingbeck had no doubt bombarded him with bias information so fair enough. He was only doing his job after all. George had a passionate hatred for Killingbeck. He had given George all manners of grief for the whole week. When Merriot was away, Killingbeck acted like he ruled the place. Tomorrow was the start of a bank holiday weekend and George was glad that he could spend the next three days out of the way of his watchful stare.

George didn't give Killingbeck another thought. It was in a very ironic way that the man he hated had caused a string of events to occur that led George into a new way of life, a much happier one. He felt like nothing could dampen his spirits. It was the end of the school week and he lifted his backpack across his shoulders and scuttled out of the building to the bike shed. He made it out of the gates just as the school bell rang, and the corridors were filled with children rushing to get out of the place that had held them, mostly against their will, for the past six hours. George was thankful that he missed all the pushing and shoving of corridor jams. He pedalled as fast as he could until he reached the top of a hill where he could rest his legs as the long slope of the bank carried him downhill into the city centre. George's breathing was heavy but he made it to Hyde Park roundabout in good time.

There, sitting on the marble base of the Royal Artillery Memorial was Edie. Her aubergine curls were reflecting the sun on its way down across the sky. She was smiling. The Gunner was besides her, sharing her laughter. They looked up and spotted George.

"Hey," George said panting.

"Took your time didn't you?" The Gunner smiled cheekily.

George laughed. He had met the pair here everyday after school. For once George was happy. He didn't mind going to school and taking the risk of bumping into older boys who would push him about and laugh, like they so often did. The day went a lot quicker knowing that somebody would by waiting for him at the end of it.

"I made you a sandwich," Edie said, handing it to him.

"Thanks," George said gratefully.

A large black bird lunged out of the sky and landed on the large cannon that was at the summit of the War Memorial. It noticed the three of them chatting on the grass and swooped down onto the Gunner's shoulder.

"Hey!" the Gunner shouted, flinging an arm up to shoo the Raven away. "I've already brushed this coat down once this morning."

Edie threw part of her sandwich on the grass and the bird hopped over and pecked at it.

"What's the plan for the weekend then?" George asked.

"I dunno. There's a new film opening at the cinema. It's a sort of adventure, thriller fiction thing. Didn't know whether you'd fancy it though. That actor I like is in it," said Edie.

"That actor you like is in everything," George chuckled. His life felt like it should be in some adventure thriller, especially after the events of last weekend. Right now, he was happy living in the slow lane. "I'll think about it."

After a couple of hours spent with the Gunner, the last light was quickly disappearing so they said their goodbyes. Edie has spent the last week staying at George's house. His Mum had spent a couple of days there and grounded him after receiving a badly worded letter from school but she had let Edie stay over as it wasn't often George had visitors. George had not yet figured out the best way to tell her that Edie was his half-sister. He knew that time must come soon but his Mum had been very busy over the last week packing for another one of her many work trips as an actress. Now she was away again so George had free reign over the house while Kay, who lived downstairs, generally popped her head in time to time to check everything was alright.

He didn't feel totally alright though. There had been a break-in last weekend when he had fled in fear of taints. The strange thing was that nothing had been taken. The only difference George noticed was that there was a part missing from one of his shirts. He thought it may have been the Walker. With that passing thought he was reminded of the Stone; the evil that still very much existed in the unnoticed part of Cannon Street. The Outer Darkness from inside the London Stone had recently broke free from its hold but with the help of Edie, the pair of them as Makers sealed it back inside. Luckily since the battle at Trafalgar Square last weekend the taints had been wary and mostly stayed out of the way but he knew the Stone was still working away. Using its Servants. Waiting in the shadows to be released again one day.

Anyway. He didn't want to be reminded about that. He put the thought to the back of his mind. He walked towards St George's Square, pushing his bike with Edie at his side towards home. He relaxed in the knowledge that he could spend the next three days free and however he liked.


	3. Free

The sun rose over the River Thames. It was a frosty morning which had the promise to be a nice sunny day providing the sky remained cloudless and the light breeze remained constant. This was London. She was familiar with all of its streets, places, attractions, all of it. It was the place she called home. The early morning commuters made their way through the streets, hurrying briskly before the rush of shoppers and taxis, forcing their way through before the jam of rush hour started that would inevitably build.

Potters Fields Park lies on the south side of the Thames overlooking Tower Bridge by City Hall, where the Mayor's office is. The newly refurbished grass and flower bed areas made the spot a nice place for joggers and dog walkers or the many sightseers who would sit down on a bench and take in the views. It was a pleasant area, spoilt only recently by a new statue that had been put up after it had been moved from the forth plinth in Trafalgar Square. Some had complained that it had cast a depressing gothic overtone to the area. There had been some confusion between two councils over who had given the order to place the statue here, or where it had come from. Nevertheless, for the meantime they had put the complaint on the back bench while more pressing urgencies were taken care with.

No one took any care noticing her walking through the area. She wore scruffy trainers, baggy jeans with the odd hole or tear and a blue hoody. Her long, dark brown hair flowed around her face. She was in the older stages of adolescents. She was attractive but never took any care in her appearance. Her eyes were the darkest green and her face showed wisdom beyond her years. She walked along side the river lifting her hoody over her head. She didn't like to be noticed. The few early birds who were already making the most out of a nice morning didn't take a second look. That's how all youths were these days, they thought she probably did it to make some kind of statement, like it was them against the world. She was probably a delinquent. Either way, she wasn't worth the bother.

The girl came to a halt and turned to the river. She looked down over the edge and caught her reflection in the shifting water. She wondered about what she was about to do. _Should she? She could still turn back now_. She sighed, it was pointless resisting. She was already late. She couldn't hide for much longer. She turned away from the river and caught sight of the statue. It really was grotesque. Its body was twisted in such an impossible way. Hunched and reaching out in agony: its face full of anguish and despair as it let out a never ending wail. Its black tar-like granite almost seemed to be melting. She had just last night caught sight of it in a newspaper article. Some mother was complaining that it frightened her kids. The girl let out a brief smile. But then it was gone and she was once again staring with concentration and intent. The newspaper article had shown her where to go. Where to find _him_. She walked over to it, took one last glance over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being watched. She held her finger out towards the stooped shoulders of the ugly creature.

On last thought raced through her mind. A chance to escape; but she knew it was impossible. Deep inside she knew this was the only choice she could make. Not a choice at all really. Her finger touched the cold figure and instantly a light from deep inside the being began to shine and the wail of torture the statue was conveying became noise. The girl yanked her fingers away, looked up as the creature began to rise, straightening all the bends and untying the knots it was in. She tore herself around and walked back towards the river's edge, grasping her hands over the top of the wall that stopped her falling into it. She didn't look back. The wails continued until it had reached a true form. The form of a man with silvery straggles of wavy black hair in a long, tweed coat and a hoody.

The form of the Walker.

He was back.

The Walker straightened up and scratched behind his ear. He moved all his limbs, compelled at the thought he was finally in control of himself again. The days he had been spent trapped felt like an eternity. He had almost done what he had set out to do but he had failed right at the very end and got entrapped in stone. He would not fail again. He would get revenge. He glanced to the side and saw the girl standing by the river bank. The edges of his thin lips broadened apart.

She continued to look straight ahead not wanting to see the truth of what she had just let escape behind her. Her eyes were watery, she continued to grasp the edge of the wall. He came up besides her and stared out across the river like she was and cleared his throat. The girl did not want to hear that voice.

"How long?" was the simple question he asked.

She cleared her throat too hoping that the muscles would not quiver when she replied.

"A week."

That was the truth, there was no point lying. He paused for a moment, summing something up in his head. She hoped he was not too angry.

"Well I hope you enjoyed you're little break" he retorted, the calmness in his voice unnerved her. "We have a lot of work to do now."

She said nothing. Another pause.

"Thank you" he said into the air in front of him, continuing to look ahead. The girl turned her head slightly, still keeping away from eye contact but looked closer to him. The gratitude he was expressing seemed genuine. Not sarcastic like she was so used to. It shocked her. Maybe the experience of being trapped had changed him. She didn't reply.

"But don't think for a second that I don't know the real reason you've released me. You can't hide things from me Nick!" He said loudly in spite turning to her, catching her eye.

For the first time she noticed his eye. Milky and cloudy it sat hiding the violet iris with a pinky-red line running diagonally across the lens, then tracing back up across his eyebrow and down his cheek at the other end.

"What happened?" She tried not to look too horrified.

"There was a confrontation of sorts" he merely remarked. He watched her looking around, wary of her surroundings like always. "Trust me, if you tried to explain this to them, everything, they will lock you up in a loony bin faster than you could even think about disappearing."

His words had a greater impact on Nick then he was expecting. She flinched and looked awkwardly uncomfortable. The Walker relished his little victory.

"You're not one of them" he whispered into her ear. "They don't care about you. You shouldn't care about them."

"I don't!" she replied with offended ferociousness.

"Then tell me what you're up to!" He spat the sentence out at her in disgust.

Nope, he hadn't changed one bit. She tried to retain the same expression on her face. One that was blank and unreadable. She looked down not wanting to give anything away. She was good at that, she'd had a lot of practice.

"I don't know what you mean" she said.

The Walker stared at her. She continued:

"The Stone would have found out and asked me to release you anyway. End of story."

"Why is it you're always gone when something important happens?" he sighed in frustration.

"Because the Stone told me to go."

The question was theoretical but she wanted to get on his last nerve. She wasn't going to let him blame her for all that had happened. The vein in his temple started to enlarge as his blood pressure rose. He took some breaths.

"Well you better have some good news for it because I'm not going to cover for you."

This little stab back at her was intended to make her scared and it showed. The Stone was the last thing Nick wanted to deal with right now.

"I heard about what happened here, news travels fast."

"Then you know why it's all the more important that the Stone hears good news. Go there now! You're late. It will want to know straight away" he said already turning his back and walking away. "Then I want you to find me the two brats that made me this way. They'll be with that good-for-nothing oath-breaking spit no doubt. Find them."

"Get your bird-"

"The Raven is no longer mine to command! I shall see to it that the little horrors pay for that as well."

And with that he was gone, vanishing into blur of the city. The girl called Nick stood on the spot for the moment, the anger rising inside her.

"You sort out your own bloody mistakes" she spat, although no one heard. No one even noticed the ugly statue come alive. She stood thinking for a moment not knowing where to start. If you wanted some gossip on the city there was only one person you needed to see: the Black Friar. She set off, quickening her pace before she too vanished into the surroundings.


	4. Friend

Nick stopped at the foot of Blackfriars Bridge. There he was at the other end. The Black Friar was mounted above the door to the pub and the large 174 made from mosaic. The big clock face that loomed above in a yellow glow was stuck at five-to-seven as always. The four storey building rounded such a sharp corner that from Nick's angle it looked two-dimensional. Who would have thought so much control and power was contained in that little crooked pub.

The Friar had noticed her tittering on the end of the bridge. He was pleased to see her, if a little wary at the thought of what she needed. But like all good inn keepers he welcomed whomever wondered into his place and would care for their needs as best he could. He stood down from his plinth as Nick stepped up to the door.

"It's nice to see you again, you've missed all the action," his loud voice echoed across the bridge.

"So I've heard."

His stomach wobbled as he chuckled and beckoned with one huge arm to lead herself in. She took a stool by the bar.

"What will it be for you? On the house for friends of the landlord," he grinned.

"Whatever you recommend. But make it strong," she scowled.

She stared around the dark place. It looked like there had been recent building work done on the place. She could smell paint and sawdust. Some scaffolding remained in the corner nearest the door.

Some of the curtains were still closed, trapping in the dark. How bleak the placed looked during the day when the lights were off, the curtains were closed and it was empty. The walls looked curved, closing in on her. She didn't like it here. She had often been here to locate the Walker, finding him where he so often would bury his head in a bottle of scotch. It was beautifully decorated but like most pubs, the outgoing night-time partiers also sucked out the atmosphere when they left after pre-drinks, leaving only a desperate, murky setting of solemn, deep drinkers in quiet corners. It was a place like this where those men and women came to asses their souls.

Her eyes slowly wandered beyond the three arches and the dark alcove, to the two parallel mirrors under the arch. Then her eyes snaked up to the concentric rings of chequered mosaic on the ceiling. Unbeknownst to her, the Friar had been watching her intensely, with calculations going on in his mind. The glass of drink he sat down on the bar next to her hand made her jump.

"The threshold between Here and There is a fine one. A dangerous one. You know how this place works. You do not need me to tell it to you. Whatever you were thinking just then, put it to rest," he said. Nick sulked and took the glass in her hand, staring deep into its bottomless pit. "And you know he would never let me allow it," the Friar continued.

Nick stood sharply to her feet and leant as far into the bar as she could.

"To hell with what _he_ allows! The Walker doesn't own me. What right does he have to impose what I can and can't do?" she raged with livid eyes. She grasped the glass so tightly, it was ready to explode.

"Please, Nick, sit down. I'm sure you didn't come here to argue. I was merely thinking about what the repercussions for you would be if the Walker found out, and of the guilt I would feel as a Guardian if you got hurt."

"Well as long as _you're_ not sinned with guilt," Nick tutted, but did however do what the Friar asked and sat back down.

"You know that's not what I meant," he said whilst coming close to her on the other side of the bar. "Listen, you obviously respect me enough to warrant my opinion on the Machine of Times and Places without just sneaking in and using it, and I regret if that opinion is contrary to what you were hoping, but I'm sorry, I simply can not allow it."

"Me, respectful?"

"Hmmm," the Friar replied unenthusiastically, his face becoming more serious. "Now… are you going to tell me the reasoning for your visitation? Do you have anything to confess?"

Nick flashed her teeth in an unappealing simper, watching the Friar's face turn from merry and jovial to a brewing thunder cloud behind the eyes. Nick bathed in the tension that had arisen and pushed her arms out straight on the edge of the bar, leaning back on the stool and balancing on the back legs of it, studying his face turn livid and his body posture go tight rigid while she scrunched her mouth to the side of her nose and looked up at the ceiling, pretending that she was taking her time in pondering. She let his anger pique and resisted bursting out laughing.

"Not enough penance in the world…" she finally replied.

The Friar hung back from wishing to expand upon her comment, partly out of anger out of her teasing and wasting his time, and partly out of actual apprehension of what terrors she would enlist if she did share the truth. So he left the silence open for her to follow. However, she didn't, and the gap of time drawn out in the gloom of the pub lengthened into a heavy drag.

"So, what _did_ you want to see me about?" he finally asked.

"Any straight-minded person would think you wished I weren't here, Friar. Is there any harm in just wanting a friendly chat with my favourite landlord?" she replied, glaring as the Friar harrumphed back at her. "I just simply wanted to make you aware of my safe return from travelling the four borders, and inform you that all went well."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Although I'm a little surprised to hear that the City can't keep a few days peace while I fly the coop."

"Ahh, yes, there was an unsettlement. A fair bit of turbulence."

"Unsettlement? I heard it was a sodding bloodbath! Minus the blood, of course, them being statues and all."

The Friar gave her a wayward stare.

"Well, indeed. And as I have made it clear _many_ times before, may I point out _again_ that when you issue more impromptu and forthright descriptions of accounts, please refrain from blasting inappropriate obscenities in my pub."

"Sorry."

"Accepted. Anyway, there was much ado over a Glint and an Ironhand and the balance between spits and taints tipped to the unfavourable outcome of fallout."

"So I heard."

"Met them a couple of times actually, nice kids. Bit dopey at first, especially the lad, but they learnt a lot in those few important days."

The Friar then turned and started putting a few glasses into the shelves above the rack of spirits.

"So…" Nick said, treading carefully with her choice of words and trying to sound as innocent as possible. "What became of these gifted young'uns?"

The Friar halted his proceedings with his back still to Nick. She saw him shake his head lightly and turn slowly to face her with a lucrative smile.

"Clever, Nick, clever."

"What?"

"I see grifters like you in here everyday. I know how it works. You only need a whiff of a Glint before you come drooling."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You never wanted to use the Machine. You want them. You started high on the ladder to mark your threshold, then when I declined you worked your way down the rungs, hammering and negotiating a way that would seem more acceptable, when really, you were getting what you wanted all along."

Nick tried to keep straight but couldn't resist a smile at his deduction.

"You got me sheriff."

The Friar looked disappointed.

"You're more like the Walker every day."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You shouldn't."

She took another gulp of her drink and watched the Friar frown at her bad manner. The liquid singed the back of her throat as it trickled its way down and then lingered in the pit of her insides. She did not like to drink but knew the appeal of why so many became lost to it. Like her, they just needed to forget. They needed an escape.

"It is my duty to locate them," she said, putting the glass down and pushing it away with her fingers knowing that she did not care for another sip.

"Ah." The Friar, who had gone to cleaning the inside of a glass with a tea towel, grimaced. "The truth at last. I'm afraid I can't help you. Since the fiasco at Trafalgar Square they have led a very vigilant attitude and kept undercover. They are very much fugitives in this world now. A dying breed they are."

"So they are."

Nick thought the Friar would not give much away. Both of them considered the other a 'friend' but suspicions laid between the foundations of their bond. The Friar did not want the kids to get hurt. It was tough to read Nick, he trusted her to an extent but it was with little doubt that she was under the Walker's grasp. It was probably on his orders to find them. And George and Edie's luck would surely run out soon.

Nick had often wondered who's side the Friar was playing on. He was very much on middle ground, part of his trade really. A friendly, non judgemental welcome to his crowd. His pub must take part in many deals, conspiracies, laws. What secrets he must know. Nick gazed upon him.

"Listen, off the record, that girl, I really need to find her. It's important. Friar, I need you're help. Please, if you know anything."

Nick didn't like it to come to this, pleading. It made her feel vulnerable. It's those kind of words that lead to deals, that lead to pacts, that lead to loss.

"You should know that I think very highly of them. Edie is one extraordinary individual." He saw one of Nick's eyes flinch which looked like a flicker of jealously.

"Edie, you say?" Nick paused. "Unusual. Couldn't be hard to locate a name like that."

"Hmmmm." The Friar swallowed hard and cursed himself. He took a moment to contemplate. He really didn't know where George and Edie had gone to. _The Gunner would be with them, no doubt._ _He would have to return to his plinth every night and he would know_. He looked at Nick. _No, a Stone-Servant near the War Memorial would not be wise._ "I'm sorry, like I said, I can't help you."

"How long have you known me for, Friar? You chum up to a Glint for a week and suddenly she's worth lying to me to cover her? And there you had me to believe only a few moments ago that you cared for my well-being. Surely you know the penalty that will be inflicted upon me if I return without information."

Nick's words struck home. The Friar shifted uneasily.

"I'm sorry."

"What about Mile End, huh?" Nick pressed.

"I am grateful for all knowledge you pass onto me, Nick. You helped the spits a great deal with that. You're work was greatly appreciated."

"Then you owe me a favour."

"I owe you nothing."

"Hypocrite!"

"I am not."

"Tit for tat, yeah? We had a deal."

"A deal works on two halves. This is not a half worth bargaining to."

"Don't cheat me, Friar, or I'll-"

"What?"

The shotgun menace he threw into that single word made Nick cower, and any idea of a threat she'd planned to announce got locked away in her mind. In that moment of looking into his round, black eyes, she could see the shady part of him, and it was almost- could she dare think it- taint like.

"Don't you trust me?" she said. The Friar hesitated before his mouth opened and Nick scoffed before he could reply. "Do you have any idea what I risked to share that information?"

"Of course I do. But what you are asking for is far greater, and I swear the truth: I am not lying. I do not know where they are at this current time. If I do hear anything, you'll be the first to know."

"Anything…" Nick said with impatience and infuriation. The Friar shook his head. "A contact. A location. Even the tiniest of hints?" Nick begged.

"Here comes a candle to light you to bed. And here comes a chopper to chop off your head," said a frail, shy voice raising the silence.

Small footsteps were heard approaching through the darkness, and then stopped. Nick sighed and exhaled heavily in her sullen state. She strained her eyes towards the dark shadows at the back where he sounded from. A light tune was being hummed by someone in the black; a tune which Nick recognised but couldn't place a finger on.

"ROARRR!"

Nick jumped at the shout and the stool on which she sat wobbled violently as her body jumped at Little Tragedy's sudden lurch into the dim light right infront of her. She reached out and held the bar edge to steady herself.

"Don't do that!" she yelled.

"Silence Imp!" the Friar boomed.

The small boy shuffled back slightly. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat.

"Apologies milady. Kind missus. D-d-don't get mad. P-please. And don't hurt them kids neither, well you're at it! They fixed me. B-bad man, 'e hurt me and they fixed. See?" He drew a line with his finger across his stomach from where the Walker had slashed his knife down.

"I don't want to hurt you."

Nick's voice made Little Tragedy's legs tremble slightly. He cowered with his hands holding himself up against the wall.

"Your Master was very angry," he continued in a whisper. "If 'e comes back here looking for me...ooooh!" A small snivel noise emerged.

"He's not my Master," she said looking bored but obviously a little vexed at Tragedy calling him that.

"I doubt you'll be hearing from him anymore, Tragedy," the Friar perked up. "The way I heard it, his conduct now is pretty much _set in stone,_" he raised an eyebrow and snorted as he put away a few polished glasses.

Little Tragedy let out a shrill sniggle of laughter and joined in.

"E's _as cold as stone,_" the boy smirked. "_Steady as a rock. 'E_ doesn't want to _rock the boat. E_'s just a_ stone's throw away-_"

"That's enough," said Nick.

"_Rock and Roll?_" Tragedy continued.

"I wouldn't be too sure of your selves."

Nick felt her eyelids close and her face scrunch up at her run-off-the-mouth disclosure. She did not wait for the realisation to hit home. Knowing that she needed to look elsewhere, she stood up heavily, walked away and lingered by the door. The Friar turned round and looked at her body rocking but not advancing any further. At first he looked confused but then he breathed out and looked rather more disturbed.

"You freed him," he said quietly and nodded in shame and agitation.

His tone denounced her.

"I had to."

She made herself stop thinking about the pain in her heart. She stood in the frame, watching the floor, then looked back to them. Tragedy let out a whimper.

"You'll be safe here," she looked from Tragedy to the Friar whose mouth then curled into a lukewarm smile. "Thanks for the drink. And for the record…I do not drool."

Tragedy hobbled back into the mysterious room at the rear.

"You have to drop it," the imp squeaked before fading into the dark.

Nick closed the door behind her and the pub went back to an even darker light. The Friar heard a small fading giggle in the shadow. He shook his head, and now alone once again, washed out the remainder of the glasses in silence.


	5. Meeting

Nick left the pub and felt the familiar tug, the calling of the Stone. It rooted inside her stomach spilling the darkness to spread throughout. She did not have time for the Stone now; she needed to find the boy and girl. She sighed and headed towards Cannon Street. At least it wasn't that far away.

People spilled out of Cannon Street Station, not one of them noticing the evil that barely sat a few yards from them. Neither did they see the girl heading towards it. She reached 111 Cannon street, the place where London Stone laid behind its wrought-iron screen. The building which encompassed it had recently had much interest by property developers and architects who had planned to demolish the building. For the meantime however the Stone was left alone. It had been moved before in the past, and it was enraged. It didn't like the normal people of the lesser world meddling with its affairs. Moving it. Breaking parts off it. It would not let it happen again.

Nick frowned as she noticed the Walker was also there, sneering as she approached.

"What are you doing here?" she asked him.

"The Stone wanted me here also" he replied, a harsh grin on his face, "and I would also love to know what you have uncovered from your travels."

"Oh I have uncovered many things" she hissed back at him, holding his stare with a deadly twinkle in her eyes.

The Walker didn't like what she was implicating.

She bent down, noticing that the iron grill looked newer than she remembered it. The middle part looked almost like it had been melted down and reshaped to try and match the original pattern. Crouching low and resting on her knees she placed her hands through it.

She listened.

"Yes. Most of them are on board. Only a few remain undecided" she recalled and listened more. As time went on she tried to hide her hidden frustration growing inside her. "They will be dealt with. I have gathered names which I have stored safely. I will retrieve them for you. I will not disappoint you again."

She threw a look at the Walker who was enjoying himself a little too much. His tongue flicked across his thin lips as he sneered malevolently at her.

"No I wasn't told of that. He never said anything when I released him-"

Then Nick broke a smile and the Walker was dragged down by the weight that crushed inside him. The Stone wanted him now. Nick tore her hands away and stepped back. She had lied to the Stone, it had been risky but she had succeeded, much to her own surprise. The list of names she had collected for the Stone was lying in the bottom of her hoodie pocket but she didn't want to reveal them just yet. She wanted to bide her time.

Now it was the Walker's turn. He placed his hands through the grill.

"She says words of untruth, I swear I would not disobey."

He looked back at Nick whose turn it was to do the smiling. She tilted her head and mocked a sad face. The Walker yelled as a surge of pain ran down his arm which made Nick jump. He convulsed in agony from the torment. Nick had also lied about the Walker who after released, had told her to go straight to the Stone. She had delayed it and had visited the Black Friar instead.

"… that is correct that I was trapped. It was an error of judgement."

There was a crunching noise and the Walker reeled out in pain. He was bent-double writhing at the torture the Stone was inflicting on him but he couldn't release his hands from inside the grill. The spasms stopped and he tried to recover, the backs of his eyes still stinging. He continued listening.

"Thank you for your mercy."

Nick was away at the time the battle of Trafalgar Square was taking place and so was the Walker, except he shouldn't have been. He had gone through the Dark Mirrors, betraying the Stone to try and find a greater power that if he could contain would use against the Stone to free himself from his curse. Then he had let himself get foolishly captured. The Stone had left him the simple task of telling the girl to go to it as soon as she arrived back and now the girl had said he didn't even do that. The ruthlessness of the Stone's attack on him was out of revenge and to punish his incompetence but ultimately it had decided that it still needed him and had issued it as a warning. The Walker once again listened.

"That is…concerning. If the predicament is true then I will expose it." He paused to listen a little more, "Yes we will".

A flash of apprehension lingered across Nick's face and flattened her short relished victory. She wondered what it was the Walker was agreeing for on her behalf. The Walker wrenched backwards and his hands were released. He stared at them, still feeling the pain. Nick rocked onto her back foot, ready to move if he suddenly came at her. He stood regaining his balance and brushed a straggle of hair from in front of his good eye to look back at Nick in fury. Nick tried to act undeterred but his glare so often scared her.

"I'm keeping my eye on you" he said.

"_Eye_ being the operative word" she jeered.

The Walker lashed out with the back of his hand with such sudden ferociousness that Nick didn't even feel her face being wrenched to the side. A searing, icy pain spread down Nick's cheek and was replaced by a warm numbness. She moved her tongue across the inside of her cheek whilst massaging the side of her face with a hand to try and bring back feeling to it. It throbbed with wild fire but she tried her best not to show it. In a brief moment a sudden panic washed over her. Her body's natural reaction to shock and adrenaline. She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. He caught her eye with malicious intent. Then Nick slowly smiled a wicked smirk because it was not often she managed to unease him. It showed weakness in him, an unhinged fault-line that played havoc with his controlled thinking. And in this moment they both knew it.

No parting words needed to be said, Nick knew what he wanted her to do. She turned and walked away from him. He watched her leave.


	6. Weird

Nick wished she had a pair of mirrors like the Walker's. It was still morning but she needed to make up time. She knew that there was one person who could find the Glint and Maker. Seeing the Black Friar was her only other alternative and that hadn't helped. She'd gone to him first because she didn't like the Woman. The Woman was odd. Even in the London Nick was used to; her unLondon, where statues walked about the streets and gargoyles actually flew, there was something unworldly about the Woman. Nick didn't know her name. A few people called her the Wise One. The Walker had said that she'd fallen from another world.

What worried Nick was who she actually was, or rather _what _she was. The Wise One knew about unLondons; the first time Nick had visited her, the Walker had sent her to uncover information about a Glint. That was over a hundred years ago. And yet the Woman was still living today. What was extraordinary about her was that she wasn't a servant and she wasn't a Glint or Maker. _What is she?_ Nick pondered the question, as she always did whenever she visited her.

Nick had arrived at Covent Garden. As usual it was packed with tourists. Nick's opinion about packed out areas was torn. For one, with so many pairs of eyes in one location it meant the chances were that someone was always looking at you, making it difficult for Nick to disappear. Fortunately, if there was someone Nick was hiding from, it would be difficult for them to distinguish her amongst all the other people. Another bad side however was a reduced exit route. Nick always liked an exit route, it made her feel safe. Two exit routes would be even better. Large groups of people loitering and pointing at maps tend to get in the way of exit routes.

Nick entered a large square full of people. Covent Garden is considered the entertainment capital of London. It's not difficult to see why. The huge amount of shops, pubs and restaurants give the place an animated and vibrant atmosphere. It's also famous for its street performers. It became so popular for them that the area is actually licensed for them. They have to work to timetabled slots and actually audition to get a place to perform. Nick watched as a funny little man in long, orange socks climbed up a ladder and balanced on it unaided whilst juggling machetes. The audience went wild with applause. It was impressive stuff. Nick searched the area from head to toe but couldn't find the woman she was looking for.

She made a double-take and saw a golden spit ahead of her. Her thoughts were knocked off kilter for a second until she understood that it wasn't a spit at all, just another street performer pretending to be a statue. Nick shook her head and laughed. How weird it was when people did that. And how ironic. She was about to head down another street when her eyes found her. The Woman was sitting near a corner to a side street; a place Nick had only just checked but she had not been there a minute before. The Wise One was sitting down legs crossed, rocking gently forward and backwards whilst chanting some words Nick did not understand. She was small and slightly crooked. She looked like you would expect an old fashioned gypsy to dress. A large head scarf covered with sequins masked her face. Her head was bowed and her right hand was palm up and covered with little stones she was pushing about with her other hand. When Nick started walking over to her she placed the stones in a bag and bowed her head. It was like she felt Nick's presence coming towards her, even though she wasn't looking at her.

"Hide young child, hide!"

Nick heard her voice, only the Woman's mouth hadn't opened and her lips hadn't moved. She was speaking inside Nick's mind; a feeling Nick never got used to. _Young? How old exactly was she if she thought Nick was young? _Nick concentrated on not being seen. She then had to make a succession of quick, rapid style movements so that the tourists travelling through the square would not bump into her. Nick walked up against the wall to be next to her.

The woman always knew when Nick was visiting. She always knew why she was. And even though Nick was the one looking for her, it always seemed like the Woman was doing the finding.

Nick didn't even have to say anything. The Woman pulled out a small roll of script paper which she rolled open onto the floor in front of her. It was a map. It looked very old and fragile and yet it had all the modern day features and skyscrapers of the city labelled. Some which Nick did not recognise but Nick thought that was impossible. There was not a lot besides the woman; a pack of tarot cards, a small crystal ball, a pendant of ancient meaning and an old egg timer. By far the most intriguing and chilling for Nick was a small bowl that contained a little obelisk knife. The edges of it were covered in what looked like blood. It was dripping at the tip forming a small pool in the shallow base of the bowl. Nick swallowed.

The Woman reached into another bowl next to her and took out two coins. The coins had been dropped by random passers by, some as an act of pure generosity, some out of guilt. Others had had their palms read or futures told. The woman was also a brilliant conjurer. So great that Nick believed there was something more than just illusions or sleight of hand going on. The Woman uttered a few phrases before dropping the coins onto the map. Nick was use to hearing different languages. London was such a wide variety of cultures and ethnicities that over the years she had begun to familiarise herself with different tongues and dialects in which people spoke. But Nick did not understand the style in which the Woman spoke in.

The coins didn't fall naturally as you would expect with gravity. As soon as they left the Woman's hand they scattered, one of them shooting to an exact spot. The other floundered for a moment landing on its side and span round and round before rolling and coming to a stop. It fell and landed exactly on top of the other. Nick was dumbfounded.

"The children you seek to find are at Jubilee Gardens." This time the woman spoke through her mouth, much to the relief of Nick.

"Thank you."

Still startled by what she had just saw Nick stood up quickly but the Woman grabbed her arm and spoke.

"Remember how it all started."

Nick stared at her for a moment then forced her arm out of the cold grasp and walked away, quickening her pace before eventually running through the square. She didn't understand what the woman had meant; she just needed to be as far away from the woman as she could. She quickly glanced round but where the Wise One had sat before was now empty and only a few rags of newspaper on the ground remained. Nick wasn't even bothered about bumping into anyone. She just had to get away, had to reach the exit. People would stagger back and issue a harsh torrent of abuse then turn around, only to find that nobody was near them. A long line of confused tourists stood looking in circles aimlessly around themselves.


	7. Exchange

The morning weather had started out brilliantly, just what George was hoping for. He was lying on his back, arms behind his head and legs outstretched, taking in the rays of the sun that were warming the air. His eyes were closed and he relaxed in the tranquil calmness of it all. There was the sound of traffic and horns beeping in the distance, but to George that sounded a long way away and as he rested, it disappeared. Edie was along side him too, but she was sitting up eating their breakfast of waffles and syrup. George had already scoffed his down.

The large outstretch of Jubilee Gardens was already awake with pedestrians. Many of whom, like George and Edie were making use of the rare British sun and finding patches of grass to sunbathe on. Edie's eyes wondered over to the long queue for the London Eye. Already it was snaking its way very far back. The wheel had a calming effect on her and she watched it roll nice and steadily around, relaxing her state of mind as she too lay down to enjoy the sun.

Nick was used to running, and she never tired from it. She preferred to run then take the bus, that way she avoided the traffic that congested the roads like a blocked nose. She knew all the streets and their shortcuts. What should have taken her a good thirty minute walk was reduced to ten. She stood at the base of the London Eye, eyes zipping from person to person in the vicinity. She thought she saw them, a couple of kids alone under the shade of a tree, however they were soon joined by a gathering of other kids, laughing and handing out ice creams which they had just queued for. It was not them. Finding the real George and Edie did not take too long however. Approaching them was the hard part.

As she stepped forward a pigeon landed in front of her. She continued her step but the pigeon did not move. She halted, frustrated at how domestic they had become in this city, it was a nuisance. But as it began to walk she noticed something tied around its leg. She then realised this wasn't any pigeon. It was _his._ She had almost forgotten it; it looked so similar to all the other birds except for a slightly greener hue on its neck. The Walker used to use this bird before he had ensnared the Raven. Nick bent down, taking the little role of paper from the thread of green silk on its leg. It read;

'_Once they are found, use the gem as a catalyst. I will find you and the exchange will happen.'_

Nick never fully understood the Walker's notes. She knew he did it on purpose. To confuse her. To make sure he was in control.

The gem; Nick knew that this was the large red stone the Walker owned. But what did that have to do with anything? She read the note again. _What did he mean by the 'exchange'? _

"Excuse me."

Nick had already walked up to them as she was thinking about the note. George opened one eye and brought a hand to his forehead, blocking out the sun so he could see the slightly older girl standing there.

"Have you got the time?" she asked.

"Half ten." It was Edie who replied.

"Thanks."

Nick turned and as George and Edie resettled themselves Nick halted and spoke again.

"Actually, I was wondering if you could help me. I'm not from around these parts and I'm a little lost. Do you know how I could get to Westminster Cathedral?"

"Yes," Edie smiled. The girl in front of her seemed nervous, frightened even. "Are you okay?" The girl nodded her head but she didn't look it. Edie was afraid she might burst into tears any second.

"Ohh. It's just…well…I ran away from home, and now I'm lost in London. I don't know what to do. I got told that there was someone in the cathedral that I could speak to, sort me out at a hostel or something," she sobbed and pulled her hoodie arm across her face to dab at her eyes.

Edie sympathized with her, she knew what it was like. She had run away herself and had had to adjust living alone in a big city.

"It's alright. We'll show you how to get there. It's no problem." There was a small moan from George so Edie elbowed him in his ribs. "It's not that far away." Edie stood up. The other girl smiled gratefully. "Where are you from?"

"Liverpool."

"Huh. You don't sound like it."

"I travel a lot."

"Well you'll fit in here, you sound like a southerner you know."

"Really?" Nick said with a laugh, a faint quiver in her voice.

George finally got up as the two girls started walking towards Westminster Bridge.

"Edie, what about Gunner? He'll be here any minute."

"Oh I'm sorry are you meeting someone?" said Nick. She knew who the Gunner was, but prayed that he did not know about her.

"You wait here then George and I'll…oh look! Speak of the devil," said Edie.

Nick swallowed and George followed Edie's eye and looked across the other side of the plain and saw the Gunner. As Nick turned Edie realised the mistake she had just made. Nick wouldn't be able to see him.

"Oh no, it was someone else, my mistake."

George realised what Edie was getting at.

"How about you two make a move and I'll stay here until he comes."

"Alright then," Edie replied and gestured to start walking.

Nick went along with the game they were playing, even though she had seen the large bronze statue jogging across the grass at the other side of the field.

"I spent the night rough you know. I was so scared. Then earlier on I went looking for the cathedral and got quite close to it. Unfortunately I was so hungry that I stole an apple from a fruit stall. I know it was wrong but no one I asked would give me any change. I got chased by some older boys and ended up near here, lost again."

"Oh how dreadful," said Edie.

The Gunner reached George and exhaled heavily.

"Phew. It's hot today isn't it? Who's that?" he puffed, pointing at the girl Edie had walked off with.

"She's lost, Edie's taking here to Westminster Cathedral," said George.

"Right well lets try and catch up so we don't lose them. Remember not to speak to me in front of her though, ay? Don't wanna spook the poor girl now do we?"

"Edie!" George shouted.

The two of them ran up to Edie and Nick but they all pretended there was only George.

"Where's your friend?" Nick said, playing along.

"Right 'ere luv," the Gunner smirked.

Nick pretended she did not hear. George almost laughed before saying;

"Oh, he's not very well. A mate of his just came down to the gardens to tell me he wouldn't be joining us."

"Shame," Nick said unamused.

"My throat was a bit sore this morning to be honest," the Gunner remarked.

The four of them crossed over the bridge and on to Victoria Street with Edie and Nick at the front.

"Sorry, I don't know you're name," said Edie.

"Ashleine," said Nick almost instantly. She threw out the name carelessly and felt bad that lying came so naturally to her.

"That's a nice name."

"Yeah." Nick looked down at the floor.

"I'm Edie and the stupid one's George," Edie beamed at her and jerked her thumb backwards.

"Oi!" George made a face at Edie then looked at Nick. "Nice to meet you."

"Ditto," Nick replied.

"Hey..." the Gunner whispered ironically to George behind the girls, "the Officer was telling me that they've moved the statue of the Walker to Potters Fields. Bet the old sod wouldn't like that."

Nick let out a sarcastic 'huh' noise under her breath. The Gunner looked at her sceptically and Nick tried not to react. She knew she'd pushed it and aroused his suspicions but sometimes she just couldn't stop herself. She looked vacant then started coughing. She seemed to be glancing around the area a lot and it made him uncomfortable.

"Tell you what, I'm going to go ahead of you for a bit," the Gunner said. "Feel a bit wary being around you lot, don't wanna bump into her or something like that."

He didn't wait for a reply; he knew they couldn't give one with the girl there.

"Hang on…" his hands stooped into his pockets and pulled something out. "Take hold'a this for a sec', would ya?"

Nick saw out the corner of her eye that the Gunner then passed the item to George so he could go back into his pocket to fetch his packet of cigarettes. Nick turned her head and saw George move his hand quickly into his trouser pocket. The item glinted a reflection of light and in that second she knew it was glass. Not any glass though, because she recognised them as the Walker's glass mirrors. George looked at her and she beamed back like nothing was wrong, playing the oblivious card, obviously.

The Gunner's strides widened and he started walking in front. Soon he was way ahead of them and Nick felt relieved.

"What I was telling you about before, those boys who chased me away from the cathedral. I was running down this street, I remember it now." Nick stopped. "I had something. Something valuable, but I dropped it when I was running. I didn't have time to pick it up because they were so close behind me and they were fast runners."

George suddenly perked up.

"What was it?"

"A very precious gem stone. My family is very wealthy, but they cared more about their money than me. I took it with me in the hope I could sell it to have enough money to start a new life in the city. I think I dropped it somewhere around here."

"Well I'll keep an eye out for it," said Edie. "What colour is it?"

They stopped at some traffic lights when Nick looked up and spotted the sign she had been looking for.

"Red."


	8. Insignia

There it was, on the wall. Nick stopped on the pavement staring at the other side of the street. On the side wall entrance to a backstreet, the symbol was there in bold red on a white background. It looked like a stickman, but with bow legs. The head was large and perfectly round and had a dot in the centre. A curved line went through the forehead like a pair of horns. This was Dee's glyph. The symbol he'd created from his past life as an astrologer. It looked like a devil to Nick. On a street where all corners of nearby walls had been run down with various graffiti markings and lettering, the symbol blended in. But Nick knew what it meant:

It was a sign.

The Walker was here.

This is where he would presumably make the exchange, whatever that meant. Nick still wondered. Her eyes searched around but she could see no sign of him. The traffic came to a halt and the lights changed, the three of them crossed the road. The Gunner was already much further ahead. Nick came to a halt in the opening of the disregarded alley.

"Ahhh!"

George walked into the back of Nick. The force of the collision bent her forward and almost sent him over the top. She fumbled her arms back to steady him. He scrambled to remain his balance. And his dignity.

"What's up?" George said, scratching his head.

"Did you see that?" Nick said pointing into the alley.

She was making things up. She'd seen nothing but she knew the exchange couldn't happen out in the street. They needed to go somewhere alone.

"There's nothing there," said Edie.

"No, look," said Nick, starting off down the alley.

It was actually a lot longer that she'd realised. She had taken many yards before she stopped and turned round. Behind George and Edie, Nick thought she saw the swish of a long coat but then it was gone. That had to be him.

"I…I thought I saw it," Nick moaned. "I swear. It was right here. The gem."

George's face lit up and he looked around checking the sides, lifting up cardboard boxes. After a bit of sifting through rubbish Edie decided that it was enough.

"Nothing's here. Let's get outta here. Places like this give me the creeps."

Edie had once thought she saw something in an alley but decided to forget about it. It later turned out to be Little Tragedy who had betrayed her to the Walker. Maybe Nick did see something, but Edie didn't want to hang around to find out.

"Looking for this?" said a crude voice.

George turned round and the Walker was stood there blocking the entrance to the alley. His face was hidden in shadow but the light from the gem in his hand was shining brightly, reflecting the glow to reveal a callous smile. The light made his mouth look like it was full of blood.

"No," George said wide eyed. It had started out as a shout but came out a whisper.

The single word echoed through Edie's mind as well_. How could this be? The Walker was standing in front of them, the Walker! _Whom only a week before George had trapped in stone. This couldn't be happening. _No_. George had thrown him the Medusa head and he'd looked into the eyes of the snake-covered stone. He'd turned to statue. They'd witnessed it.

"How are you alive!" George shouted, not being able to stomach anymore words.

"Maybe you should ask her," the Walker replied, nodding in Nick's direction.

Nick panicked. _No. Don't do this, Walker! Don't tell them!_ _It's better if they don't know_. George looked round at Nick but remained glancing back at the Walker with caution.

"What's he on about, Ashleine?" asked George with uncertainty. He could see what the Walker was getting at but he didn't want it to be true. The Walker looked at Nick puzzled, but then he gave a cruel smirk.

"Yes go on, why don't you tell them _Ashleine_. Take this while you're at it."

The Walker raised his arm back and flung the gem towards her. Nick suddenly panicking, dived to stop it from breaking. Her hand just reached an edge, which spun it wildly before she clasped her other hand down on it. She landed awkward, knocking all the wind out of her. She wheezed and coughed. She stood up rubbing her aching ribs and looked back towards the main street. The Walker had gone. _What was he doing?_ Nick knew this was a bad idea.

There was a moment of hush. George and Edie were looking around too. They had all been so preoccupied with the gem that they had taken their eye of the Walker for a split second, giving him the perfect opportunity to run around the lot of them unnoticed. Nick felt a rush of air behind her. The Walker's arms grasped around her waist and his knife was thrust against her neck. Nick gasped. George swung back round to face them, his arms outstretched in a defence stance.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"Tell them," the Walker repeated. He lifted the knife a lot higher towards Nick's chin so she was forced to raise her head right back, exposing the thin skin to the wicked blade.

"You never would," spat Nick.

From the corner of her eye she saw his cruel lips break into another merciless smile. She felt his breath brush against her face. He brought the knife even closer to her throat so it was now pressing into the skin. Nick could feel it digging into a groove of muscle in her throat. It was so close to puncturing the skin and letting the blood drown her. She could feel her pulse against it, wild and fast, pushing ever closer into the knife. She didn't dare struggle because any tiny move, any wrong decision, would be a mistake.

"No?" the Walker threatened.

The small hesitation from Nick made the Walker's smirk broaden so that his lips turned white from being pulled taut across his gums._ He wouldn't. He couldn't. Could he?_ Nick's mind raced with possibilities. Nick was an accomplished liar, she had learnt from the best. Unfortunately the best was the Walker. She knew she couldn't see through deception in his words. Could not figure out when he was bluffing. He had crossed her and double-crossed her too many times to figure out his tell. He was too complex and it always frustrated her because he could see straight through her. She was lucky enough to be able to lie to the Stone and get away with it, but she couldn't lie to him. Couldn't pretend not to be scared with his knife so close.

"I…" Nick began, not wanting the truth to be out. They would never forgive her. The Walker tightened his grip, squeezing the air from her lungs.

"Say it! Say it loud," he sneered.

"I…I set the Walker free," she cried.

And with that the Walker pushed her downwards. Her knees hit the floor and her head kept on moving. She hit the crooked pavement, face slamming against a broken slab of concrete which dug its way into her cheek. Her lip also grazed against the hard texture of it. She blindly swung round with her arm attempting to hold the Walker's legs but he had already taken a step back. Nick looked up at him. In his hands he was carrying the piece of paper Nick had taken on her travels, the valuable information Nick had yet to give the Stone. He had just taken it out of her pocket. _The exchange. A trick. _Nick knew it.

His eyes fixed down at the blood making its way out of the fresh cut on her cheek. Her lip was already beginning to swell. How he had known Nick had the papers on her presence baffled her, but it was part of his mystery. He knew her too well.

With a massive drop of her stomach, Nick realised that he was also holding his glass mirrors. She heard a pressing flap noise and knew it was George patting his pocket down and noticing the mirrors had gone. Nick wasn't able to bring her self to look at George to see the truth spread across his face when the realisation hit; when he finally understood that Nick had stolen them when he'd bumped into her outside the alley. And now the Walker had pick-pocketed her with the same unnoticeable dexterity and speed of craftsmanship for the fine knack of misdirection. _The bloody thief!_

"Catch you later."

The Walker broke the mirrors apart and stepped back. In the small moment before he was gone, Nick noticed something. Something she had never seen before. The small pearl that the Walker was wearing on a hoop earring was glowing. The cloudy casing of the small round ball had turned clear and a golden light shone at the very core.

But then he was gone.

All that remained were torn newspaper shreddings flapping around in the wind and a cat scurrying away from all the noise. Before Nick even had time to make it to her feet two large hands had forced her back down. The Gunner had returned. He had heard her shout. In one swift movement he raised her completely off the ground and restrained her against the wall, her legs scuffling to reach the floor.

"You've got some explaining to do."

The power of the Gunner's voice scared her. She couldn't match his strength; his firm, bulk muscles pinned her to the bricks behind. The weight of the bronze mass hurt like hell. She resisted the fight knowing there was nothing she could do. The Gunner grabbed her by the cloth on her shoulders and dragged her towards the main street. He barged past George and Edie who remained behind momentarily, their faces in shock.


	9. Taken

Edie had waited long enough. She looked at the Gunner who understood. He turned the crank which pulled the chains up for the last time. A strange solitary mass was dragged out of the water: as the water died back down to the depths all that remained was sodden clothes and long tangles of hair which straggled down to conceal a face. It was still, too still. The Gunner looked over at Edie, a strange mix of angst and guilt flashed across her face as she feared she had left it too long. _What were they doing? It was brutal_. But the moment it arrived it was gone as suddenly a great splurge and spluttering emerged from the being. The being of course was Nick. She coughed and heaved great mouthfuls of air with difficulty. Her hair was chocking her. She couldn't see. Her face stung as the grimy water trickled into the cut on her cheek. Blood was throbbing in her temples. She whipped out at her surroundings and what followed was the clattering of iron chains against the mold-covered stone walls. The sound reverberating off them deafened her and she let out a shriek, but only heard a wry, limp cry.

Nick didn't know how long she had spent underwater. She had suspicion that she had passed out for some of it. Her senses started to return and she felt the cold. Shivering as the ice air plastered her bare arms, she felt the sharp dag of the chains around her wrists graze their way into flesh. A line of red was making its way down her arm. She was jerked to the side as the Gunner grabbed her legs. Her feet had barely touched the ground but she felt the weight of the earth collapse beneath her. Her arms were released and she crumpled down, her face hitting the ground. Her eyes remained closed and she willed the numbness and exhaustion to take her away into the sleep that was calling for her. But before soon the smooth, bronze arms of the Gunner had scooped her up again and she was put on a chair, her hands tied to it. His arms rested on her shoulders which swayed uncomfortably underneath. Her eyes creeped open. It was dark but her eyes adjusted enough to see a small stream of light bound upon the aubergine curls of Edie's hair. Edie was standing arms crossed at the opposite wall. She reached in her pocket and took out her heartstone; it was blue, shining brightly. She was angry with herself that she hadn't checked it before.

"Don't try anything stupid" she called out.

What was heard by Nick was only muffled echoes. She strained her ears and tried to focus. The room was spinning making her nauseas. Nick was aware that more talking was going on but she couldn't make it out. Her eyes were heavy and unfocused. A shadow passed across her. She felt more sick but with time and concentration the room returned to normal and she saw George kneeling next to her.

"Are you okay?" George said loudly in short sharp words. It gave the impression that it wasn't his first try to communicate this and he was getting frustrated.

"Yeurghh-" Nick tried to reply.

What George heard of it was anyone's guess. It was just guttural sounds. He let out a sigh and stood up.

"Let's give her time and try this again later".

Nick's head fell back, hitting the wooden back of the chair as she watched the three slightly hazy figures disappear. She was left alone in the cold and dark with only the stream of light to give her any hope. She had the feeling that she was underground somewhere, a sewer maybe. It certainly smelled like it. The damp, moss-covered walls hissed out a stale aroma; a reek that reminded Nick of the Walker's underground '_dream of four castles'. _He had often trapped her there when she had done wrong_. _

Water covered the floor. Her feet which gave out little movement despite her tries of desperation, were sliding on the wet stone. When she had been placed here the Gunner had tied her arms behind the chair. Her legs were free but the effort to stand was still too great. Time passed and passed and nothing happened. The cold seemed to hit her in waves between periods of numbness. Nick had realised that nothing could be done until they returned. She couldn't even think of what to say during the inevitable interrogation that would eventually happen. They had kept her alive so they must have questions. Her mind was in a state of nil. Her eyelids dropped and Nick was asleep before she even realised she was falling.

A loud scrape and bang woke Nick up with a jolt and as her eyes sprang open she was temporarily blinded by the light which entered as they opened the door. George and the Gunner walked over to her and George tied his jumper around her face as a blindfold. They untied her arms from the chair and lifted her to her feet. It was an effort keeping her upright. They came up to ground level and George checked that no one was passing the street. People tended to overlook Nick anyway, and with the Gunner there, it wouldn't matter if anyone did see. Their minds would simply ignore it. It never happened. They didn't see anything.

They went into an old wooden house that George had assured them had been empty since her childhood. It was a small, Victorian house that had been left alone for many years. It was in disrepair and some of the windows were missing glass, others were boarded up. There were stories that it was haunted. Nick was once again sat down and tied up, this time her legs were too. The jumper was removed from her eyes. The one room on the ground floor was just a bedroom. George, Edie and the Gunner sat at the end of the bed staring at Nick who stared around the room for a while before her eyes rested on them.

"Who are you?" The question sprang from Edie's mouth without hesitation.

The other two fell perfectly silent wondering the same.

"More importantly, who are you?" Nick replied, one end of her mouth curling upwards.

"We don't have time for games" the Gunner stood up pacing the room.

"Well I don't have time for questions so how 'bout we save each other a bit of time and you let me go, yeah?"

"Not likely, girl. Now are you gonna cooperate of do we have to tie you back on the crank?" he threatened, a finger pointing at her.

"Don't see what good that would do for either of us, but whatever you think is best, soldier" she nodded her head mockingly. "You could certainly try and drown me again but I don't see you havin' much success" she hissed.

"Who are you? How did you free the Walker? Why are you working for him? I'd always heard he'd got some kind of sidekick who worked in the shadows and now here you are."

"I'M NOT HIS SIDEKICK!" she pulled at her restraints fiercely, hoping they would come lose, but she groaned and sank back in her seat. "I don't take no orders from the likes of him."

The Gunner paused.

"Tell me about yourself then" he said.

"Nothing to tell" she replied looking bored.

"Oh I'm sure there's plenty. We've not even scratched the surface with you, kid."

"What can I say? I'm like stainless steel" she sneered.

The Gunner smiled cynically.

"I bet you're names not Danielle, is it?"

"It's Nick." said Nick. There was no point lying anymore.

"Like the Devil."

"A fallen angel? Yes I guess that's like me. Old Nick" she raised an eyebrow. She then let out a sigh with the hints of a small laugh.

She didn't have time for questions, not now. Not while it was all happening, right now, while she was trapped in here. The Walker would be taking the stolen information back to the Stone. Nick had written things on there which she didn't want the Stone to know. Her face which had remained in a glazed, unreadable tone had now broke into one of more concern and anguish.

"If I tell you, will you let me go?" she asked. She'd had enough experience to know that of course they would say yes, but they wouldn't.

"Yes."

Nick wanted to laugh but her face was unreadable.

"You wanna make an oath to that?"

The Gunner delayed a response, staring at the dangerous glitter in her eyes and her teasing poker-face, trying to fathom her out, but it was impossible.

"No, you're just gonna have to risk it."

"You're learning." She let him linger in his own thoughts for a moment before continuing. "After all, I'm the one tied to a chair, right?"

The Gunner had a sudden worrying thought. Nick looked too comfortable in her situation. What if it was a set-up? What if she was exactly where she wanted to be? The whole thing in the alley did seem a bit dodgy, if she was working with the Walker, why would he let her get caught?

Nick was frustrated but she didn't have the time or energy to try and wind them up anymore.

"To answer your questions…" she aired, "I don't really know where to begin."

She spoke quietly as if afraid someone was listening behind the walls. She had always been very careful. Always kept her wits about her. How could she have let herself get captured? More importantly, how could the Walker just leave her like that? She showed the faintest of smiles, a smile of exhaustion and confusion, of denial and acceptance. As quickly as it had appeared, it faded. She had to laugh at times like this. Times when laughing was all she could do, because if she wasn't laughing she would be crying. Depressed or crazy. She didn't want to be either of these, so she laughed. Laughing at her own misfortune, how was that funny? She didn't know, but she still laughed.

Maybe she was crazy.

She thought about the pathetic situation she had got caught up in because of the Walker's betrayal. Nick didn't know why she was even surprised by it. It was exactly the sort of thing the Walker would do. He'd done that sort of thing before, and it wouldn't be the last time he tried. He only cared about himself.

Nick tore herself away from her own thoughts because she knew the more she stalled, the longer she would be kept here.

"How about from the start?"

The question posed to her by the Gunner brought her back from deep inside her mind as she weighed up the options. _She really didn't have time for this. _

Nick let out another sigh and closed her eyes, tracing back the memories of her past. The start. That really made her want to laugh. _Could she really tell them that her start was in 1662? She had to. If she missed anything out they wouldn't understand. They would think the worst of her._ _Maybe she deserved it. _She looked at George. He had already been through so much in the past week, so surely, nothing Nick said would be unbelievable right?


	10. Rubble

"In the mid 17th century..."

Even as Nick said those words the three of them had perked up and sat a little closer on the end of the bed. Nick had wondered whether to start with 'once upon a time' it seemed that long ago. It would most likely sound like a fairy tale to them anyway. She didn't know how to word it, or how much she should reveal. Part of her wanted to help them and yet another part didn't want to make it easy for them. There was a small burning inside her that said it was wrong, that she was a betrayer. She was confused and felt like a double-agent who didn't know what side she was playing on anymore. Was she on her own side? _She really didn't know_.

The Gunner was looking more concerned. Would she tell the truth?

"... a lot of girls started to disappear. Women also. It got the government suspicious but nobody could find any clue."

She paused, trying to figure out the best way to tell it. A brief glance at Edie showed growing anger, as if she already knew the reason why. Nick then spoke a lot slower, not wanting to tread on any stones, but she knew that she must.

"As you must all be aware now, the Walker had a particular… fascination with Glints."

Like lightning Edie stood up, her finger out straight pointing in a threatening stance.

"Has. Not had. He tried to drown me!" she yelled. George stood up and placed an arm around her shoulders urging her to sit back down.

"What comes around goes around," Nick's eyes narrowed back at her. Edie's mouth opened slightly but she hesitated, decided not to say anything and sat back down.

Nick looked to the floor and didn't make eye contact with any of them as she spoke. Maybe they weren't ready to hear what she had to say.

"Anyway, it wasn't just the Walker. The Stone too had become increasingly aware of Glints and the power that they hold. It planned to…get rid of them."

The words cut into Edie as she fought back the anger. George tightened his arm around her. There was nothing threatening about the way Nick spoke, but neither was there anything sympathy. Edie needed someone to blame for what was happening and the cold, passive tones in which Nick spoke made herself an easy target. Nick continued:

"The Stone was also becoming increasingly bothered by the role of the common man in society. More people were moving into the city, more and more buildings were being raised and areas were being split into sections. Not to mention it was at a time the Plague was devastating most of the country."

George remembered back to his history lessons with Mr Whitehall. He had learnt about the Plague last term. Oh how long ago that felt now.

"The landscape was being carved up; the sacred land that the Stone held its own. It needed to put an end to it. It almost did."

There was another long pause while this statement was considered.

"What happened?" Edie said, the first to dare ask. The hatred in her voice had now died down and been replaced with anticipation and concern.

"A fire…" Nick swallowed. "The Fire."

"Wait-" said George "You don't mean…" George had a flashback in his mind chasing up the Monument looking for Edie at a time when all this began for him. He was at the top. The Raven swooping down and grabbing his trouser leg. George clinging on to the metal pole and staring at a plaque dedicated to-

"The Great Fire of London, 1666." Nick breathed out, looking to them properly for the first time.

All three of them were shocked and a little confused.

"Are you saying that the Stone started the Great Fire of London?" George exclaimed.

"Well a Stone Servant I presume, or a group of them. Nobody knows now. The Stone probably had them sworn to secrecy, or worse".

Edie gulped. She didn't like the sound of that.

"It was a brilliant plan. Horrible of course, but brilliant," Nick carried on. "The city was reduced to rubble. The fire tore through buildings and cut the population, many were killed from the lesser world, probably Glints too."

They couldn't help noticing a slight tremble in Nick's voice, but that could have been the cold. The Gunner thought he was mistaken, but he believed he saw crystals forming in her eyes. Nick noticed him staring and moved her face into shadow.

"The lesser world?" Edie besmirched with distain.

"The world full of clueless eyes and no imagination. The world which dismiss all what they see and discard this world layered right on top of them. The unLondon from which you left, George. The place where on the whole, the majority of people are just plain stupid and don't see their own mortality staring at them in the face. Them and their pointless life's they consider to be of utmost importance, like everything revolves around them. So easily and willingly able to throw away the thought of the existence of my world because of their irrational and senseless beliefs. They're fools."

"That's the Walker talking, not you" said the Gunner.

"You say that like you know me," Nick replied. "If you think I am issuing a brash assessment then please, stop me. It could be so much more. There's so much potential. I've seen Maker's put there pride and soul into sculpting. If only they realised how true that statement actually was. If they had any sense they would know what they're feeling, but even when it's staring them in the face they're oblivious. They have to be pushed into this world to see sense." She shot a glance at George then looked away again. "Unfortunately I've seen the same kind of people smelt down spits to molten core, there creation's purpose melting in a slag furnace, a spirit torn, a soul destroyed, once again nothing but an idea in someone's mind."

The Gunner swallowed a lump in his throat and said nothing.

"It's not their fault," George interjected, "You can't blame them. They don't know any better, if they only knew then-"

"What? Things would be better?" Nick snorted. "Tell me, George, why didn't you tell you're school about what happened after you broke that carving outside the museum? Heck, you even chose the Hard Way just to stay here. What does that tell you? Edie, why haven't you told anyone what you can do?"

Both George and Edie looked blank for an answer.

"Because that world is a cruel place, and people will hurt you for being different. People of the lesser world want all too quickly to sweep their problems under a rug that they become blinded by there own assumptions and anything different beyond their parameters for tolerance is considered wrong. They are too hasty at interpretation that they rely on the certainty and assurance of what has gone before because it is the safer and easier option. But what happens is they end up misjudging it completely. It's lazy. They are agile at brandishing notions they don't understand will give a negative credence, and use labels such as trickery or fraud. There's a reason Glints don't tell these people. Do you know what they used to do to Glints when I was a child? Huh? They hanged then. Burned them. Drowned them. Tortured them. They called them witches!"

Nick spat the last word and let the silence surround there feelings into forced isolation.

"Things are different now," said Edie firmly.

"But for the better? Laws for rights and justice have improved but those people are still without a clue. They don't tie Glints to stakes anymore, no, they just stick them in padded cells. Asylums for the mentally instable. How's that any fairer?"

Edie knew all too well that Nick wasn't pouring any exaggeration into her words. She thought of her mother. It was the hard-cut truth.

"So, The Fire. What's all that got to do with you?" said the Gunner, steering Nick clear from the high waters of her outer protection of turning things around on other people.

He knew there was something hidden within her. Nick's face flashed with unsettlement and she knew the Gunner had picked up on it. Like a small child been caught stealing sweets. Nick stared at him. She had been stalling by telling them this part of the story, now it would get personal and she didn't know how much to reveal about herself. She was never one for talking, especially about herself.

"I…I was in that fire" she said, staring out of the window almost daydreaming as if trying to detach herself from the very words coming out of her mouth.

The three of them sat there very still, not one of them able to come to terms or figure out what had just been said or put into words the questions they had. After another long pause Nick decided to go on.

"I was four. It was about three o'clock in the morning and I was woken by a dog barking. I was coughing really badly. There was already smoke everywhere and I could hear crackling and loud snaps downstairs. The crackling soon turned into a roar. I heard distance shouts but couldn't figure out where they were coming from. I shouted out loud, shouting for my parents." Nick noticed that her eyes were becoming wet, she turned her back on the three of them. It stretched her tied up hands to the limit but she didn't care. "My door was locked. My parents did this in case there was a break in. The handle was too hot to touch anyway and the window was too high to jump. I went over to the corner furthest away from the door and bend down. I was…terrified."

And with that Nick was unable to keep the strain out of her voice. Edie put a hand to her mouth. George and the Gunner just sat listening.

"I don't remember too much of my past but I remember that night. The smoke got so thick I was chocking and thought that it was the end. The door blasted open: and I thought I was dead. But I could still open my eyes, albeit it was difficult, by this time there was ash and debris flying about. Bits were landing on me, burning me. It was incredible just how quick the fire spread. It was at a time most houses were thatched and made from wood; a bit like this house in fact. No wonder the entire city had gone up in flames. I wasn't dead though, unbelievably there was someone standing in the door frame. It was just a silhouette to me, the flames rising up behind it. It came closer and stretched out a hand. For a moment I thought it was the Devil. Wasn't far off..." she tried a smile but it didn't hold. "I took the hand and it took me away. After that it's all a blur, I can't remember anymore."

Nick decided to stop. She had already said more than she needed to. She had never told this to anyone but saying it out loud had some sort of healing effect on her. The tears never left her eyes but the lump in her throat made her unable to continue. There were so many questions left to ask but at this moment nobody wanted to say anything. The pause was a welcomed silence that rested in the minds of everyone. Finally George summoned the strength to talk.

"Who was it? Nick who rescued you?" he said, a small nervous touch in his voice.

"The Walker."


	11. Punishment

"I don't think you've finished explaining," said George.

Nick was still staring out of the window. She hadn't meant her discussion to go on for so long. The sun was already high in the sky. She had now composed herself and had her mind on what she was going to do when she was let out. She was still tied down. _Could she escape?_ It was pointless, the Gunner had tied her down too tight with advanced knots. What else would you expect from a military man?

"Please let me go," she asked.

The Gunner who had remained quiet for most of her speech now spoke bluntly.

"I'm afraid we can't. Tell us."

Nick wanted to rub her eyes, she was exhausted. Her clothes had dried now but she was still cold and hungry.

"There's not much to say about my upbringing. My parents and only other family all died in the Fire but it never really hit me. I guess I was too young to mourn. I didn't 'get' death. Now it's been so many years that I can't even remember what they looked like. Besides, we weren't all happy families anyway. I told you about mental asylums before, well… my Mum was in one. A right nut-house it was. I went there once, all alarms and screaming and men in white coats and zombified patients taking tablets in little pots. I never understood at the time, but I do now. It was soon after she got released that we moved to London to get away from it all. The start to a new life. We were deluded to think it would ever be normal. After a while in a lull of false-security of hope my Mum went into relapse. It put my Dad on the brink because of it. She would've been readmitted had the Fire not happened. I suppose, what happened to them was a blessing. An end to their suffering…"

Her voice tailored off as she reminisced.

Edie pondered about the girl in front of her. She seemed intelligent, smart enough to understand what was happening in the world without being hood-winked by all the lies. But there was a darkness to her. A poison turning everything to shades of grey. A candid instinct that dragged her away from anything comparable. Whatever had happened in her life, she hadn't seemed to take it too strangely. Edie thought that it would have been due to the Walker, but by what Nick was saying, it looked like she'd always had an abnormal life. A familiarity with the outlandish that stretched the boundaries of standard living. Nothing was considered overboard. For Nick; crazy was reality. It had always been that way, even before the Walker had a hook in her. It was a dangerous life to lead.

"What happened then, after he rescued you?" Edie said, eager to get a response.

"The Walker took me to an orphanage where I stayed until I was eighteen. And it was… normal, I didn't get out much so never knew about London Stone or about unLondons or anything. It was fairly boring actually. I didn't really get on with anybody else. Liked my own company. Well there was one person actually-" Nick halted sharply, "Anyway the Walker would visit me often."

Her sharp change of direction hadn't gone unnoticed by the three of them and they wondered what it was she kept from divulging. Nick continued, wanting to keep up the pace.

"He kept telling me that things were different than I realised. That I was special- like him. I knew he was different; when the people at the orphanage would come into my room they would ask who I was talking to. They couldn't see him. I didn't understand why. I know now it's just that little trick he does…"

Edie remembered back to the time the Raven had shown her into her Mum's memories. Her mind flashed to when the Walker was sitting with her Mum in the mental institution. Everyone thought she was crazy, talking to herself. Edie knew the truth and felt sorry that Nick had gone through the same.

"He said I would see great things. He told me to wait. So I did. Let's face it, I had nothing else to do. Not much ambition. I didn't show much appeal for success. I liked to blend in, stay part of the crowd. A nobody. A few days after my eighteenth birthday he took me away from the orphanage and to the Stone." Her voice was getting sharper, more irritated. Nick obviously had a strong despise of the memory she was revealing. "The Stone was…" She tried to think of a word, "…captivating. The Walker told me that all the power I could ever dream of was inside that stone. All the greatest things in life contained within the hard shell. Whatever I desired would become true."

For the first time in ages Nick changed her glance to Edie and talked directly to her. "All my life the Walker told me I was special. And I believed him, not based on his words alone but because I experienced things, memories if you like, when I touched objects."

Edie's eyes widened. Was Nick trying to tell her that she was the same?

"You're a glint?" George placed the question like he was reading Edie's mind.

"No." Nick could feel the creep of teardrops forming again but she would not let herself break. "I _was_ a glint".

Not for the first time that morning Nick had said something that had changed everything. The more she spoke, the more unbelievable her story became but no one doubted what she was saying. The Gunner thought he knew how the next part of the story would happen. She was born in 1662 and yet she was still alive today. Aside from that she only looked eighteen. There was only one answer to that. Just as the Gunner opened his mouth, Nick spoke.

"I was tricked." A barely noticeable nod to the Gunner confirmed what he was thinking and what she realised he knew. "I made a pact and the Walker convinced me to try and break the Stone, take a part of it. If I succeeded I would be granted my most precious desire. For me then, it was obviously to see my parents again. I don't know what it was for the Walker, he never told me. All I remember was that there was light, so much light, erupting from it. And for the first time, I felt it. I felt the Stone's anger. So much hate and rage."

"I can't believe it," George broke in with fire in his voice. "How could anyone do that, you were only eighteen!"

This had only brewed his hatred of the Walker to the next level and he swore that the next time he saw him, he would finish him. Nick looked at him;

"It is said that when a person gets cursed it corrupts their soul. If it's any consolation it might explain why the Walker is the way he is. He was once a great man, you know. Mathematician, physicist, astronomer, navigator, philosopher, you name it. Heck he was even consultant to Queen Elizabeth I. But everyone has their breaking point, George. And he broke. Just like I did. I hope you never have to reach yours."

Nick took another long breath and the impact took effect. To be truthful, all three of them looked blown away and it was almost enough to make Nick laugh, if it wasn't such an awful event in her history she was describing.

"Yes I'd made the pact and I'd become cursed; a Stone-Servant. I was suddenly thrown into this world, this 'unLondon' as the Walker described it to me. Well, you two know what it feels like but I found myself to be on the wrong side of it all. I was the bad guy. It felt like my whole humanity had just been stripped away from me. I couldn't relate with the 'real' world anymore, the world that was left behind me. And it just got worse. The Stone had taken away my power of glinting and replaced it with others."

The use of the word 'others' had intrigued them all. What exactly was it that she could do? But as they wondered they realised that Nick wasn't going to tell them. These so called 'powers' obviously weren't good. The Walker after all could not rest, he was doomed to walk the Earth forever. That wasn't a power, that was a punishment.


	12. Law

"There's just one thing I'm not clear about?" The Gunner asked with caution.

Nick sighed again, the questions would never end but she couldn't blame their curiosity. Nick knew if she was in their position she would be asking the exact same questions. It was hard to answer such questions though as many were hidden within mystery themselves, some which even after all these years Nick had not figured out.

"Go on" she replied.

"Why did the Walker save you at all? Wouldn't it have just been easier for you to err…well, die? Not that I would have wanted you to die. I'm just saying if you did. But I'm glad you didn't. It would have been awful if you'd-"

"You're rambling now Gunner" Nick chuckled.

"Err, right" he replied whilst straightening up, brushing some dust of his long coat.

Nick paused thinking about the question.

"It depends what you're opinion of the word 'dead' means. If you ask someone who's been cursed they might say they died the moment they got cursed. They felt like their soul got torn apart or ripped out of them. They believe that none of the person they used to be remains inside them anymore."

The Gunner looked aghast. George had turned a slightly paler shade.

"Do you believe that?" said Edie.

The question flummoxed Nick for a moment.

"I don't know what to believe. But make me choose and I suppose, no, I don't. I still have my memories from when I was…normal." The word hit her chest like a knife. "Yes, I follow the word of the Stone but out of fear, not loyalty. Please remember that if anything. I believe I am still alive. Still Human. But I also make mistakes, like humans. I've done things I regret. Not always on behalf of the Stone either. This curse isn't an excuse to do evil. The Walker, yes he is a bad person but you have no idea how much the Stone can play with a person's mind. Anyway…I guess you're version of 'dead' meant no heart beat, yes?"

The Gunner just nodded, unable to say anything.

"The Stone needs people to do its bidding. Taints can only get so much done. They lack intelligence, intuition and instinct. A human on the other hand, is a lot more useful. Humans can be tactful, deceitful and more important, vulnerable. It makes them easy to manipulate. The Stone wants an army of followers so it can hopefully one day be freed. You saw what damage it can do when the Darkness was let loose. I'm telling you though, that was only a fraction of its true potential. In layman's terms, the Stone needs us alive. We're no good to it dead. It also believes that death would be an easy release. A get out of jail free card. No, it wants us to suffer. The immortality we have is just a brutal reminder of what we have to face everyday. The longer we're like this, the less like our real selves we are, we get corrupted and are more likely to do exactly what the Stone wants us to do."

Another silence.

"I need a drink" the Gunner said when all the information got too much to bare and swiftly got up and walked out of the room.

"I think I'll join you" George shouted after him and wandered out of the room as well. He was glad to be having a break, he needed the air. What he was learning about the Stone was really quite something. He didn't think that Nick would be so informative. He felt sorry for her. Her life was just one big conspiracy, one master plan thought up by the Stone.

The room felt a lot smaller now the two of them had left. Edie felt slightly uncomfortable wherever she looked. She felt Nick's eyes gaze upon her. The room they were sitting in was the only one on the ground floor. Nick waited until she had heard the cluttering of George and the Gunner's footsteps move upstairs.

"There's something I haven't told you, Edie". Nick took a deep breath. "I didn't know whether to tell you in front of them or not."

Edie didn't like where this was heading. She shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like how the two of them seemed so far apart, but yet strangely familiar. There was something about Nick, something Edie couldn't quite put her finger on, that made her very anxious. They had both been brought into this world due to forces they had no influence on. George had unwillingly fallen but ultimately caused his predicament. For them, there was no choice, it was based on a coded sequence running through their blood. It was their DNA. Their coincidence or their destiny. Nick was very much in league with dark forces, so much so that Edie could almost see Nick's own dark side playing on the surface. There was something very wrong about it but Edie couldn't help being attracted. She searched her soul for answers. Maybe it was because she had died. Died and come back. She had felt the blackish nightmare of evil, the suave gathering of dark roots in her heart. They blinded her informed moral sense of good and right into inky obscurity. A strange vagueness that she shared and harboured commonalities with the hidden complexities of the girl looking back at her.

"The Stone didn't just curse me because I was a Glint. It was something else as well. About who my Father was."

Edie was dumbfounded. It was as if this story never ended. It just kept piling on the load and what seemed like the climax was just another cliff edge that needed to be climbed to reach the top. But the layers were peeling away and it must soon be at the core of knowledge.

"Who was your Father?" she asked, a slither of nerves starting to play on her voice box.

"Well that's not really the important part." Nick said. Edie looked confused. "There is a law, long fore-told by people in this unLondon. It has long since been lost and only known by some as a myth. The law goes that if a maiden is born from a Glint and Master Maker, then that child will have the power un-knowest to most, and the ability to defeat the Darkness will ensue. So when I said who my father was, I should have really said _what._ My Dad was a Master Maker".

"No" breathed Edie.

What Nick was saying couldn't possibly be true. As Edie had just recently found out, her and George shared the same Dad, a Dad which had passed his Maker abilities on to both of them. That would make Edie the daughter of a Glint and a Master Maker.

"So what you're saying is…" Edie hesitated.

"You have the power to defeat the Stone" Nick concluded.


	13. Wasted

There was a flash and a splash and then silence, and finally a groan. Something was wrong. It was dark. It never used to be dark. It shouldn't be now. The Walker lifted a leg up onto a gravel bank and climbed his way out of the water, using his hands on the side to stop him from sliding back down. His shoes and lower trouser legs were wet through. He shook one leg but it had little effect. It was sodden. His thoughts were quickly distracted from the cold stab of the water to his surroundings.

"That bastard spit."

He tried to stay calm but a wave of anger took over his body and he threw a punch into the darkness. His fist cracked into stone as he hit the wall opposite. He yelped in surprise as the skin on his knuckles was scraped clean off. He was closer to the back wall than he thought. He stood motionless in complete darkness, cradling his hurt hand. The sound of his breath echoed back against his face. The room seemed smaller without the light. With his other hand he reached out and felt the sharp edges of stone jutting out the wall. He crouched and his hand went down sliding onto moss lining the bottom of the wall. One finger became embedded into a little circular groove of smooth rock. His breathing halted as he felt around the jagged edge where the artefact would fit in. He straightened his legs and walked, feeling his way around the wall as his hands moved across the rock. He found more and more of these little circular notches in the stone and when he had gotten all the way around he snatched his hands away in anger. He was definitely in the right place.

This was his place.

The castle he had dreamt of and made a reality. It wasn't much, not a castle at all but a discarded underground water tank which he had made his own. It was his fortress and place of power. The sentimental value he held to it was worth more than any King or Queen's finest possessions. He thought so anyway.

But look at it now.

When he travelled through the mirrors he was going to go straight to the Stone but changed his mind last second. He ended up here. _Look at it._ Infact, you couldn't look at it, it was pitch black, which was exactly the problem. He used to arrive to an enormous fanfare of light, an illumination that dazzled and inspired. The room glittered, the glow sung out and the area sparkled, it made him feel welcomed. But now…nothing. All the Gints' heartstones had been taken. He knew it must have been the Gunner, he was the only other person apart from Nick who knew where it was. Actually, there was one other person, but the chances of him being back in London were very slim. _It must have been the Gunner. Maybe that had something to do with the Glint still being alive._

The Walker had trapped the Gunner down here, but he'd escaped. He bowed his head in his hands. _How had he escaped? He should have been more specific with his commands._ All the years he'd collected them, all the memories, all the time used, all the effort.

All wasted.

He liked to think the heartstones gave him strength, like they did the Glints. The more he collected the stronger he grew. The more he could think, the quicker he could react. The more power he had.

But they were gone.

He opened up his mirrors again with wrath curdling his blood. As he held them steady in both hands his heart beat quickened as he realised the true implications of the Gunner's efforts. Without the heart stones there was no light. Therefore, there wasn't a reflection between the two mirrors to open a gate to pass through. His breath caught in his throat.

He was trapped.

_No._

The Gunner had escaped, so the Walker could follow his route out. If only he could find it.

He yelled a curse into the darkness and heard his voice slamming back into him again and again with fading echoes. Then all that could be heard for the next few minutes was his chest rising and falling as he breathed slowly into nothing. He stared in to the void and let the black and the quiet give him room for thought.

There was a small noise, like a fizz, and the Walker realised he must have closed his eye at some point because there was now light in the small, underground cavern. It was dull, and he couldn't quite make out the blurs of the edges of the walls hidden in shadows, but nevertheless it wasn't all black. It was a slight midnight, army green colour which crept out into the inky, charcoal surroundings. He saw the white pitch reflection of the glistening watery edges and the murky pool in the centre. He turned his head and the shadows shifted around with his turn which made him realise that he was making the light. Or rather- he put his hand to his ear- the pearl on his earring. He took it off and held it in his hand, straining his eyes to focus on it. He felt a low, wearisome murmur of vibration being emitted from it. It flickered suddenly and the Walker moved fast.

He attached it back to his earring and took hold of the mirrors, one in each hand, held them parallel to each other, and waited. He still felt the ripple of a fluttering hum against his ear lobe, but the light was too dim.

_Come on._

He knew the meaning behind this phosphorescence but it shocked him to the core that it was happening. He waited with his whole body tense, staring straight between the mirrors and praying that he would see a difference. His whole body focussed on it and he forgot all about the surroundings. He couldn't think about anything else.

Suddenly the pearl sparked back on and the Walker shot his leg out into one of the mirrors and felt with a gulf relief that the light was enough and the surface of the mirror caved in with his step. The light shut off again but the gate had already opened and the Walker disappeared through the mirror with nothing more than a small _pop_ sound.


	14. Connection

Edie was taken back. She almost fell off the bed. She wanted to blurt out so many words but they weren't making any sort of logical sentence in her mouth. This couldn't be.

"It's a lot to handle, I know," Nick said. "They call people like us _'Keys'_. I only found out when it was too late. I realised I could Glint only a few weeks before the Great Fire. I hadn't told my parents by that time. I didn't know I was a Maker as well. But for me then, I didn't know what any of it meant. I was cursed before I could release my true ability and by then, the Stone had already taken it away from me." She held up her bare palm towards her; "That's why I never got the mark of a Maker."

"So you're Mum, she was in the asylum because she was a Glint?"

"Yes. I think she knew what she was, what being a Glint 'meant' but I remember before she had her funny turns she was always scrambling about, going frantic, looking for something."

"Her heartstone?"

"She must have kept misplacing it and then...went crazy, like you do."

"How did the Stone find out? What you were?" Edie questioned.

Nick shook her head.

"I think there was a whistle-blower, someone my Dad worked with who held a grudge."

Edie's hands were shaking;

"Does the Stone know about me?" her voice trembled.

"I don't think so, not yet anyway," Nick stated.

Edie let out the trapped air in her lungs.

"But the Stone is getting suspicious," Nick continued. "In the last few years coming across a Glint has been very rare."

Edie could feel the throb of her heart against her ribs, it was also in her ears as the blood circulated around her body. She felt hot and sweaty. She was reminded of the Walker's 'hobby' and reached inside her pocket to grasp her heartstone, she needed the strength now more than ever.

"When one appears on the Stone's radar it sets everything to red alert. The Stone is aware of you for sure but I'm not sure whether is knows _everything_. Only you and George know about your connection right?"

"And the Gunner, yes," Edie said. There was a slight look of concern on Nick's face that worried Edie. "What's wrong with that?"

"I'm not sure Edie, but I remember the Walker telling me that the Gunner had broken an oath to him." Nick tried to recall the memory.

"Umm well yes I think I remember George saying," Edie said. "To try and save me. Why, what's that got to do with anything?"

"If the Gunner broke a Maker's oath to a Stone-Servant then he will be under the control of the oath-receiver. The Walker could use that against him."

Edie swallowed. She prayed to the Heavens that the Stone did not know about her.

"Hang on- how did you know about me? How did you know that my Dad was George's Dad?"

Nick blinked.

"George is your brother?"

Edie hesitated. She was confused. Nick didn't know they were half-siblings. Had she just revealed it to her by mistake? She cursed silently.

"Half-brother," Edie corrected.

"So it's true. You are a Key."

"If you didn't know that then how did you know before? How? And don't you dare tell the Stone!" Edie shouted, standing up tense, her whole body ready to pounce. She then hastily looked up at the ceiling, hoping George would not have heard her shout from upstairs.

Nick struggled against her restraints. Her wrists felt the pain, it burned her skin but she didn't care. She just wanted to be free. In so many ways.

"Do you really think I would be telling you all this if I gave a damn about the Stone!"

Edie paused, Nick made a point she couldn't argue back to.

"When we were in that alley I looked at the Walker and I saw something I had never seen before. The pearl on his earring, it was glowing gold."

"What does that mean?"

"He was given that pearl by Queen Elizabeth I for continued services to the crown. She was mad on pearls, had loads of them."

"I still don't get it."

"When I was a kid, he gave me that pearl and it eventually became my heartstone."

"You're kidding."

"No. After I was cursed I did some research on people like us. It turns out that when two Keys are in close contact they have a connection, their heartstones will glow. A glow that is different from all the others because it will turn the object clear and there is a light from the centre of it, a light of pure gold."

Edie removed the hand that had been grasping her heartstone. She looked at the glow, it was like it always was when there was a taint or servant near, blue. Nick's eyes lingered on it too, her brows furrowed with suffering.

"I'm not a Glint anymore, Edie, therefore I'm not a Key. Your stone will stay the same."

"But yours isn't sea glass."

Nick started laughing and it occurred to Edie that it was the first time she'd seen Nick look anywhere close to happy.

"You think it has to be?" Nick scoffed. Edie fidgeted and Nick softened up. "Heart stones are something a glint relates to on a personal level. It's a trinket of cherished identity. It doesn't have to be valuable or even be nice to look at. It can have no importance to anyone else because it's yours and only yours. Which is the point. It doesn't matter and yet you value it more than the air you breathe. It's priceless. There's usually no finer day out for a young child than a trip to the seaside. And one of the great pleasures for the little fledglings is the awe and anticipation contained in the small moments of lifting up a stone and seeing if there's anything underneath it. They run the length of the beach by the waters edge, wearing down their day's energy and find every small thing is of great importance to them. They see the world with unspoilt eyes. They find smooth, frosted, coloured stones of glass and choose it as a momentum to contain the memories of their joys. A small token of freedom that they can have and take care of forever, and it's theirs without a price. As they grow up they only find needing theirs stones more because it reminds them of the time when they were at their happiest." Nick laughed again through an unfortunate smile. "But in case you haven't guessed by now, I didn't really get the chance to enterprise myself in such recreational liveliness. I didn't live near the sea and I certainly didn't revel in combing through the mucky Thames shorelines for hidden treasure. As it is, I'm not that fond of water."

Edie didn't want to catch her eye, feeling as if Nick was taking another dig at her for tying her up and submerging her into the slimy water again and again. Of course, Edie already felt bad about what they had done in that period of anger and fear, but if Nick had a fear of water, it now made Edie feel all the more devastated. Nick could be bluffing or double-bluffing, but after all, the greatest of lies are often believed because they have a basis of truth.

Nick shook her head.

"I don't know why I saw what I did. I don't know why my pearl changed. It shouldn't have. My heart stone hasn't glowed since before I was cursed. I just don't know."

Edie remembered all the glints heart stones the Gunner had taken from the Walker. They had lit up to save her even though their owners were dead. Therefore she believed everything Nick had told her and maybe, just maybe, there was a flicker of warmth left inside that pearl to give Nick the strength Glints needed from their heart stones.

A noise of someone coming down the stairs could be heard. George entered saying that he heard shouting from downstairs.

"I don't know what you mean," said Edie.

She tried to put on a brave face. She wasn't going to lie to her brother, but she didn't feel able to tell him the truth just yet either. She looked at Nick who caught her eye and a silent agreement was made between them.

"Well errr…..whatever. We need to move now. Gunner noticed some taints hanging around. Untie her," he nodded in Nick's direction.

Edie went over to her and started to undo the knots by her ankles.

"Thank you for telling me," she whispered to Nick, out of earshot from George.

Nick briefly smiled in acknowledgement.

"Where are we going?" Nick asked.

George thought about this for the moment.

"I'm sorry," he said, moving towards her with his jumper in his hands.

Nick frowned.

"Oh it's like that, is it?" she said, whilst the jumper was tied around her eyes.


	15. Enemy

Nick didn't know where they were taking her. She was blindfolded with the jumper and could only see gaps of light coming through the material. They took her to the north side of Fleet Street, to the impossible door. The Georgian door halfway up the side of St Dunstan's-in-the-West. It was guarded as always by two spits, or rather one, Hercules; but there were two of them. As the Gunner dragged Nick to the foot of the church, the clock hand turned to the hour and both Hercules' struck the two bells above the door. Nick's head under George's jumper looked up to face the direction of the noise. She couldn't see anything but the Gunner knew she might have figured out their location. One Hercules spoke something in Greek. Shadows were cast against the far wall as stone steps pushed out of the side wall to the ground. This was the route to the door and George knew they would be safe inside.

They entered up into a room. George remembered it from one of the first nights he had spent getting to know Edie. Even in the day it still had the creeping darkness entering shadowy regions. The Clocker had frightened him once by sitting in those shadows. George wondered if they were being watched now. He had gone very cold so unravelled his jumper around Nick's face and put it back on. She gathered in her surroundings of old and spare clock parts and various clothing items and other storage from the church. The guard from the door entered with hands full of bags of peanuts and bottles of water.

"You must be hungry" he said whilst passing them around.

He had brought some for Nick too but seeing that her hands were still tied, handed them over to the Gunner who placed them on the ground not offering her any.

"I'll just go and tell the Clocker you're here, he'll be thrilled to see you again, never stops talking about you lot" he said before turning through the door.

The Gunner smiled at George and Edie. Edie was looking at Nick intently. Nick had visibly tensed up since the guard mentioned the Clocker and was now trying to cover it up from Edie.

"It's cold in here" said Nick, shivering.

She caught Edie's eye then stared at the floor. There was a huge clatter as someone came thundering down the stairs and George recognised the bell-like sounds of little trinkets jangling together as they hung from a waistcoat. The voice of the Clocker talking to the guard could be heard before he barged into the room, beaming. Nick let her head drop low, continuing to stare at the floor, edging further back into shadow

"Well, what trouble have you gotten yourself into now?" he chuckled and Edie ran over to hug him.

"Clocker!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him.

"Hah! Well. Thanks!" he said a little bewildered. "George. Bless my soul. Nice to see you." His voice boomed as he held out a hand which George took and shook.

"It's nice to see you too, Clocker".

The Gunner also shared pleasantries with him before the Clocker's eyes swivelled round the room to examine the forth presence. His smile faded and he remained still. His eyes narrowed and from behind the blue lense of his spectacles, his clock eye pulsed an even darker red and an even brighter white. With every second the chance increased that it might just pop out of the socket completely.

"What's she doing here?" he hollered.

"Always a pleasure Clocker" Nick replied. A blank expression wore on her face.

The atmosphere in the room had changed just like that. Now there was confusion coming from the rest of them. The room seemed even colder.

"You two know each other?" the Gunner questioned.

"Unfortunately" the Clocker's single word pierced the air. "Don't trust a word she says".

Nick was hurt, but not surprised. The bitter words stabbed something inside her. The others were shocked at what the Clocker was saying. They had not seen him angry like this before.

"Umm now then, let's just take it easy shall we you two," Edie said and looked at the Clocker, "Why don't you and the Gunner go upstairs and make a plan about what to do, okay?" She turned back to Nick "it looks like we need another little chat".

The Clocker took another stare at Nick, his one good eye so intense it could burn a hole through her.

"No point there Edie, she's good at mind tricks".

With that he tore from the room, the Gunner following him and sharing a puzzled look at George. Edie picked up the bag of peanuts and gave them to Nick who tore into the bag and guzzled down a mouthful. Within a minute the bag was empty but she drank the water more reservedly.

"Care to explain what the bloody hell that was about?" George said after waiting for an answer that wouldn't come on its own.

Nick pondered. She had talked too much about her self today. She felt vulnerable. She didn't want to say anything else. She looked at the door, the exit she knew she couldn't go through.

"I'm a servant. People hate servants" she said matter-of-factly.

George didn't look convinced.

"Look, working for the Stone…" Nick started "It's not easy. You make enemies. I guess me and the Clocker are just on different planes of thought, you know?" She took another sip of water.

She didn't need any more water, but the couple of seconds was an excuse from not talking. It wasn't much, but Nick took whatever she could.

"So, what, you're not gonna explain anyth-"

"Haven't I told you enough? If the Stone found out what I've already told you it'll-" she stopped, suddenly realising the full impact of her own words.

What if the Stone did find out? God only knows what the consequence would be for her. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

"She's right" Edie interrupted. "She's already said enough".

Nick was thankful for Edie, whom George did not want to argue back to. There was quiet once again in the room.

Nick felt the familiar jab in the pit of her stomach; the Stone's calling. What had the Walker done with her lot of notes? Was the Stone bringing her there for punishment because of what it said? Either way, she knew they wouldn't let her go yet. She was late yet again and she would have to remain in the room and suffer the consequences later. She slid down the wall and brought her knees to her head then tilted her head back to rest on the wall and shut her eyes, trying to block out the feeling and listened to the distant sounds upstairs of the Clocker and the Gunner planning their next move.


	16. Tales

George and Edie finished their peanuts. It had been a while but the two of them waited very much without saying anything while the others busied themselves upstairs. Nick felt terrible. She had released the Walker who only betrayed her, leaving her to get captured. She had betrayed the Stone its self, spilling its secrets and she had probably filled Edie with as much fear to last a lifetime. Edie had not told George about her being a Key. Nick had respected this decision but wondered if it was the right one. She would leave it be for a while until things were clearer.

Nick had often wondered how a Key would actually be able to defeat the Stone. Would they just know? And what exactly were the powers the law spoke of? Nick put all the thoughts to the back of her mind. Past memories only reminded her that she had got no further in solving these mysteries previously. Maybe time world tell. She turned her attention to the two of them. Nick had begun to earn their trust but now because of the Clocker, George was more unsteady being in her presence than at the start of all this. Retaining information was only going to feed their suspicion. She lifted her tied hands to her face and drew her finger across the cut on her cheek. It had healed faster than normal, a slight benefit amongst all the negatives of being a servant. She could still feel the slight ridge where the separate parts of the skin had fit together.

"Alright!" Nick shouted, jolting George and Edie out of their half-sleep trance.

George rubbed his eyes and stood up sharp, checking that Nick was still hand-tied. He settled and sat back down.

"What the-" he began but Nick stopped him.

"Me and the Clocker. We've known each other for a long time. A very long time. We went to the same orphanage."

Edie sat leaning forward, listening with all her concentration. She remembered how Nick had started talking about the one person she got on with at the orphanage. Who would have thought she meant the Clocker! This was crazy. She saw George rub his forehead, the same look of incomprehensible disbelief on his face.

"He was a bright kid" Nick carried on. "He was a bit older than me, by about three years if I recall. He was the only person who actually came to talk to me at lunch. People would ask why, but he just said I was 'misunderstood'. He kept the bullies away." Nick seemed to be in a trance recalling the memories, stuck inside her own mind. "He left when he was eighteen and became the apprentice of one of the best engineers in London. A prized accomplishment for someone of his background, but he was no less worthy for it. He became a popular chap. Got to know all the right names and faces; the people who pushed him higher. He was destined for greatness and I applauded him."

Nick hesitated, not wanting to spoil the happy memories of what the future years brought.

"After he left he still used to visit me but after I reached my eighteenth birthday I disappeared. He tried searching for me; got the police involved and everything. But they weren't interested. They had no lead to start from. I was just another lost kid in the capital city. They thought I had run away" she sighed. "I was here all along of course but I didn't want him to know about this world so I kept out of sight. I wanted to spare him from all this evil. He could live out a happy life in peace and just forget about me. Eventually he did, he moved on. In just ten years he'd got a great job and wife and settled down with a kid. I was happy for him. I truly was-"

"Then tell 'em why my 'oh so happy' life turned to ash. Go on."

The Clocker had walked into the room, almost knocking over the water Edie had left by the door. He wasn't wearing his magnifying spectacles with the blue lense covering up his clock eye. It was pulsing just as strongly as time tickered away. One of his hands was wrapped tight around a length of string, tallying the beads on it. Nick jumped. The Gunner followed him into the room.

"Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop?" Nick retorted.

She didn't want to get mad at him, but she was angry at herself for getting in this situation in the first place and needed a vent to let it all out.

"I wanted to stop you. Before you fed any more tales. I know how your story goes."

The two of them had had this conversation before, when it all happened but unfortunately neither of them had gotten to a common agreement. Their friendship had crumpled and they had drifted even further apart with hate.

"You tell them your side of it then!" Nick screamed at him.

"Pah! Actually, continue. I could do with a laugh" he replied.

George, Edie and the Gunner didn't know what to do. Both of them were cursed after all, their situations differed of course, and he couldn't begin to know what it was like to be either of them, but he proposed Nick had the short straw. They all trusted the Clocker but after hearing Nick's story they were torn. There was obviously a whole lot of history going on behind their eyes. Over three hundred years in fact. All the three of them could do was sit and see how the argument played out. They both needed to get things off their chests. Surely things would be better after everything was out in the open, they hoped.

"Well…" Nick took a breath clearing her mind. She turned back to the three of them, she didn't need to explain herself to the Clocker again. "The Walker told me one night that the Stone had a list. It contained names of the people the Stone wanted to watch on suspicion of being Glints or Makers. I had no idea how they found them. I scrolled the list and saw his name" she pointed towards the Clocker but didn't look. "I didn't know what to do. I had no idea that he was a…a…" the strain in her voice became more prominent.

"Master Maker" the Clocker finished, "and neither did I!"

George had often wondered what the Clocker's real name was. He had brushed away the question the first time they had met. Nick did not say. Was this out of respect? Was the Clocker one of the people who believed they died when they were cursed? That they were no longer the person they used to be, so chose an alias? Was that the same with the Walker? George added it to his list of unanswered mysteries in his mind. It had already tripled today.


	17. Late

The Walker had indeed gone to the Stone with the paper he had stolen from Nick.

The Stone had sent out a call for her to return and share with it the information she had gathered but there was no sign of the girl and it was growing tired of her delayed response. In fact, whenever it called to her she was late, and it was becoming wary of her recent activities. He would have strong words with her at some point.

Words weren't the only thing it had in mind. The Stone found that something a lot stronger was usually more precise in getting the point across, and it found that servants became much more reliable after that.

The Walker was waiting out of view around the corner on Cannon Street, re-reading the paper. He knew why Nick was not returning, it was his fault. She was probably being interrogated which was ironically the same as what she would've received if she'd been at the Stone. He read it once more, storing it to memory and shoved the paper back in his pocket. He came to a decision.

He recited all the names to the Stone off by heart and promised that the servants who rebelled would be dealt with.


	18. Respect

"The Stone-Servants kept a close watch on all the people targeted, made a list of their day to day activities and names of close friends and family, those sort of things" Nick continued talking to the silent room. "But they had trouble locating him," she nodded at the Clocker, "I knew why; I had often followed him to see how things were going on in his life. Call me a stalker, whatever… I just couldn't let go of the one part of me that belonged in that world." She caught his eyes but couldn't read them. "After he left the orphanage he took on a different name. He liked to brag about himself you see…" There was more fire in Nick's voice now, a slight anger rung in her words "Tried to make the best out of himself. The truth was… he was ashamed."

The Clocker shook his head and turned away but he didn't retort. Nick continued in a mocking tone;

"_How could anyone take him seriously if they knew he came from a stupid orphanage? He was just some lonely, unloved child who probably only got his apprenticeship out of sympathy_."

"Stop it!" he cried out. "It's not true".

"Then why?" Nick said, with desperation in her voice.

This was something she had needed to find out for years but the two of them were too stubborn to talk without starting pointless fights over nothing so their long despair for the truth had been laboured with meaningless. The Clocker was unable to answer. In his heart he knew it to be true, and he hated himself for it, but it sounded a lot worse when she said it.

"Well alright, Mrs High and Mighty. Tell all. Tell what happened next!" His voice shook.

"It's my fault the Clocker's a Thrall" Nick finally declared.

"What?" said the rest of them collectively.

The Clocker looked at Nick sternly and spoke;

"You wanted comeuppance. You were being punished. It was unfair for just you to undergo the evil…"

"No" said Nick, shaking her head, her face a clash of emotions in combat.

"Why Nick? Did you think I didn't take care of you enough at orphanage? Do you think it's my fault somehow? That I should have been able to stop what happened to you? You thought I was ashamed of my upbringing. Did you think that because I changed my name and went to university that I abandoned you? Were you jealous that I was living a life you could never have? Did you want to get back at me? Was that it? You dragged me into this because you couldn't stand being alone. _Why should you be the only one to suffer? What had you ever done wrong?_"

Nick's eyes were clouded. Her head shook again but she wasn't sure if it was from denying the accusation or from the peak of agitation she was riding. She couldn't find a reply. Her eyes were fixed on the floor; she couldn't dare look at anyone else because she knew her continuing silence was a queue for them to believe that what he said was the truth. The Clocker seemed to take it that way as well, his vexed eyes widened in an acknowledged display of annoyed shock.

Sometimes the truth hurts.

Nick couldn't stand her lack of defence but she couldn't argue with it. Was it denial or admittance? It had been so long, she didn't even know what the truth was anymore. A tiny part of her had just accepted his attack. Maybe it _was_ just her own selfish actions. Maybe it _was_ mercenary and self-centred. She couldn't deny part of her felt that way. It was only a small part. A part that surely everyone would've felt had they been her. He wasn't wrong, it was unfair, she did feel alone.

She was only human.

Wasn't she?

A suppressed anger rose up inside her, she shouldn't be ridiculed for what she thought at that time because that wasn't the thing that had- in the end- forced her to act. It was the greater reasons that were still left unexplained.

Edie thought she should say something. They were lashing out, saying things they didn't really mean. She could see it in their eyes, they both cared for each other but their hardship of their past, something someone wasn't telling, was causing all this pain, this split between them. It hurt.

"Tell us what happened, Nick?" said the Gunner in a soft, impartial voice that soothed Nick's worry and fear of rejection. She sniffed then closed her eyes, recalling the memories through the thick web of time.

"It was a horrible night, what remained from a hurricane had made its way over the sea and was spouting lashings of rain and lightning over London. It was that night the order came. The Stone had previously tried to curse the people on the list. With a few it succeeded. Everyone else though, it wanted dead. The heart-stop kind of dead. Things got worse than that. It didn't just want the Glints or Makers dead. It wanted their families dead. It wanted their children dead. Kids who may or may not inherit the genes of their mothers or fathers ability."

Edie gasped. The Gunner and George were astounded. The Clocker stared at the ground, pain etched into his face.

"And I ran!" Nick cried. A tear rolled down her face and it pained her to feel it but it was a relief. All this emotion had brewed up inside her for so long. She just wanted a release. "I went to his house and banged on the door. You see, I had to make a decision; the hardest decision of my life. I have been in sorrow ever since. But I couldn't let this happen. Not to his wife. His child. Not to the innocent. It couldn't happen. So many families devastated with no justice. Anyway, he opened his door, to much shock of course. There I was, drenched in the hurricane rain looking exactly as I did ten years before that. I urged him to follow me, he thought he was going mad. I rushed to explain everything to him but he couldn't follow. The storm was so loud and we were soaked. The wind was howling and lightning was tearing through the sky. Everything was a big mess, I knew I only had so much time, the servants were on the lookout. I told him that he needed to trust me…"

"I did" the Clocker broke in for the first time. "Trusted you always back then".

"I told him to make a pact" Nick stopped. Her head was aching and she felt dizzy. She was swaying on the spot.

"So you tricked him into becoming one of the Weirded?" sighed the Gunner. He didn't know how to react.

"I..." Nick began but was unable to continue.

Her head was in her hands. A sob escaped from her. The Clocker leant against the window, staring out, a tear trickling down one side of his face. He reached for a chain hanging off his waistcoat into his pocket and pulled out a small oil can which he tilted above him, his head leaning back so a few drops could land onto the tight hands of his clock-eye.

The room remained very still. Nothing stirred apart from the small sobs from Nick and a few heavy breaths from Edie. Nick had reached another breaking point, she wanted the exit. To just run out the door and never return. She looked up. There was still more to say.

"A lot of people were killed that night. A lot more went missing. The town folk blamed it all on the bad weather and the flooding. I had to deal with the guilt that not all of that was true and no one would ever find out. A lot of the City was damaged, very much like after the Great Fire. The City had to pick up once again after another tragedy whilst the Stone picked up another victory. I couldn't save everyone…" Nick looked at the Clocker hoping that he would understand, "but I saved his family. After he was Thralled the Stone stopped being interested in him A Weirded can't be a Maker, therefore can not have Keys as children. Same with me. His name got crossed off the list. His family were never found out. The Stone never found out about me either, my part in it, so it never knew our connection. The Stone thought he had no family, they weren't on the records it kept. So the Stone stopped looking. His wife and child were free."

Now it was time for the Clocker to talk.

"Couldn't bear it. For long time. Didn't want family to see me again. Not when I was like this. Could never explain it, you see. Know how Nick must'av felt now. I went to my house only once more. Just a secret to look through the window. My son was playing. In the corner with a truck I'd made out of wood. He loved that toy. My wife was the other side of the room with one of her friends she worked down the factory with. She was in tears, explaining to her 'bout all that happened. Told her that I'd left. That I got scared and ran. When my wife told me she was pregnant I was scared. Admit it freely. Wasn't a coward though. No. Concerned if the time was right, only. Heh, ironic, eh? Or whether we could afford it, you know the issues. But I loved Edward and having him was the best day of my life. I hit rock bottom that day. Got really depressed, I did. Sacrificed everything for them and what did they make of me? They hated me. Edward grew up thinking his father was a coward. Worthless nobody that I eventually became like now. They grew old and I was so proud of my little Teddy. Became a top business man. My wife, well, she eventually remarried. I was happy for her. Edward got a new father, a better role model than I'd ever been. Never stopped me thinking though; if Nick hadn't showed up that night, make me change 'an all that. Would Stone ever have found me? Could I have lived out my life with them?

"The Stone would never have stopped looking for you. It never gives up" Nick interjected.

"Even if self did get found out, would it have been better to refuse? Die together. Happy for short time rather than eternity in misery. Alone.

"You're not alone" Nick cried. "I've tried to tell you that- so many times. Whose to say that it would have killed you anyway? For most people, they got cursed. I was saving you from an eternity of pain, of slavery to the Stone. That way even more lives would have been hurt in the process. I know what you go through Clocker, what you have to face every day. We all have our demons but trust me, servitude to oneself was the lesser of the two bads."

"Truth be told, whole business turned me a bit do-lally. Constant awareness. Never ending tick. The call of time hearing every second. Huh. Funny really. When think about it June always did say to buy watch."

He continued to tally the beads that ran on the length of string between his fingers. With the other hand he opened one of the many pocket watches that was attached to his dark blackish-green tail-cut jacket and examined his reflection against the inside glass cover. The one eye of his which was panelled by a clock face moved with perfect synchronization with the one he was holding. He closed his other eye, trying to block it out.

"Ohhh" the Clocker moved across from the window and flopped onto the bed, head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Nick."

"I'm sorry too" she said.

This time there was a very, very long pause.

There was still many harbouring of guilt way down, being bashed about by waves in the dock of emotions. But now there was also a thin layer of silver hope. After all the years they finally had a reason to work together, and there was respect reflecting off the pairs' eyes. They had both gone through so much and were finally reunited in admiration for each other.

"So…" the Clocker concluded, pulling himself together, "the Gunner told me you've plans to finish the Stone good and proper? Well count me in."

Edie glanced at Nick, their mutual understanding was clear, even through the misty glaze of Nick's eyes.


	19. Secret

They spent most of the afternoon in that room. After a while the Clocker had to leave because one of the clocks in the church had stopped working, so he'd gone to take a look at it. The others took it in turns to speak while the rest munched on more peanuts. Nick remained largely quiet for the most of it, often flinching and grimacing as the pain from the Stone's calling got stronger. It was great that people wanted to help but their plans were useless. She knew that only Edie could change things. She was the only one with any hope of destroying the Stone.

"Nick?"

The word seemed to jolt Nick from the in-between state she was in. She looked up and noticed everyone looking at her.

"I know you've told us a lot already Nick, but you never answered one of the first questions" the Gunner noted.

Nick looked confused but then understood. She'd almost forgotten. They wanted to know why she'd released the Walker.

"Ahh," she said. She took a while to reflect upon the notion and finally shook her head. "Look, it's not easy to say this but it's what the Stone would have wanted. I didn't really have a choice."

"There's always a choice," said George "I went with the Hard Way so don't tell me there isn't a choice."

They looked sad. Nick was supposed to be taking the fight against the Stone and yet she only ended up helping it.

"I'm sorry guys. I hardly knew anything about you lot then. They were just my orders. I've lived my life on the periphery, like a ghost. I hide from the world. I don't know what being human is like anymore. It's hard for us servants to get our morals right. Some embrace the curse, feed on the power they have and some just lose their minds. They don't know if their thoughts are their own or just something that's been pushed into their heads. They make wrong decisions, we make questionable judgements. I suppose we're all lost."

Nick seemed lost herself. George picked up on how she would always change between using 'we' and 'they' when talking about servants, like she didn't know who she was anymore.

"What about the Walker?" the Gunner spat. "He ain't lost, he's exactly where he wants to be. He wants it all."

"You don't know the half of him," Nick answered back.

"Do you?"

Nick never answered him. The door opened and one Hercules came through asking to have a word with the Gunner, who stood up and left the room. Nick was sure she was losing a lot of respect which had been yo-yoing all day. She would just have to accept that they would never fully trust her. She was a servant to the Stone after all, who could blame them. If the truth be told, Nick wasn't exactly telling it. She'd told them enough already and wanted to keep this one close to her chest. There was one little undisclosed secret that she had kept from them; that wasn't the only reason she'd released the Walker but she couldn't do anything about that now and she wouldn't tell them until she knew more. The talk soon returned to planning an attack and Nick drifted away again, sinking back into her own mind whilst opening another bag of peanuts.


	20. Alliance

"Edie. George. I want to ask if you would let me go now. The Stone is calling me."

The pair looked at each other with blank faces, neither knowing or deciding who was going to make the call.

"I don't know, Nick," George was the first to answer. "We'll see what the Gunner says when he comes back."

"The Stone is calling for me. It would be imprudent for me to not follow its demand," Nick replied with haste.

"What does it want?"

"…I don't know."

George paused trying to come to some kind of conclusion. It would be easy for Nick to lie to them. She had before when she first met them. She seemed the kind of person it would come naturally to. Before George could reply the Gunner had entered back into the room and Edie had asked for his opinion.

"What? Let her go back there so that she can carry out one of the Stone's horrid plans? I don't think so missus."

"It's not the only reason I need to go back," she sighed, knowing the information she wanted to retain was about to spill from her mouth. "Over the past few days I have gathered vital information from another servant that would benefit the both of us, but I need to verify it to be sure."

"How many servants are there to be exact?" Edie jumped in.

"Over the years there has been many, at one time however there isn't a lot, but there's enough. The Walker and I are the only two in London nowadays. But there's also the Tallymen don't forget. The Stone keeps my work in just the City of London, or the Square Mile as some call it because of its size as I'm sure you'll know. I usually stay within the boundaries of London Wall. I do get out quite a lot though, to work with the Walker, he deals with Greater London. The Stone probably wants me close so it can keep an eye on me."

"What work exactly?" George interupted.

"Any smell of a change to the city and the Stone wants to know about it. I'm an informant. I find the right resources, bribe the right people. Befriend enemies and then knock them down a peg or two. Stop any chumps getting in the Stone's way."

"And what about the Walker? Surely he has you doing stuff."

Nick shifted uncomfortably.

"Monitoring and surveillance mostly."

"Of who?"

"Anyone."

Nick's response was much delayed.

"Who, Nick?" the Gunner said more forcefully.

"Glints."

There was a long pause as everyone went from shocked to realising that actually, it wasn't that much of a surprise. It was just another thing Nick had 'forgotten' to tell them about. Nick looked ashamed. Edie looked like she was about to say something. Before she could, George sprang another question.

"So if there are only two of you in London, where are the rest?"

"It sent the rest of the servants across different counties to take control over all corners of Britannia. I've spent the last week travelling, searching for them because the Stone wanted me to gather information about how they are getting on. I think it was also a test to prove my own loyalty. It asked me to visit new taints and earn their trust and agreement. It wants an alliance, a treaty of Stone followers that would return to the City if ever the Stone was in danger."

"Great. And I thought there were already enough darn taints here. Now we could be faced with a whole plague of them!" the Gunner yelled.

"Well the spits are on your side too don't you forget. You wouldn't believe how many times I got chased out of the cities by them. They all heard about what happened at Trafalgar Square and they were supporting you the whole way. Believe me, if they ever saw the taints heading to London, they would be here faster than Concorde to help you guys, fighting for King and country."

The Gunner felt proud that his fellow comrades showed so much patronage and loyalty.

"The Jagger's always love a good fight," he chuckled.

Nick felt another pull from the Stone, this time more sinister as it plunged the depths of her soul, clawing at the sides and upturning the very fabric of her being. Nick felt dizzy, she let out a small wince and pressed her hand to her chest, that way hoping the pain in her heart would ease. She could see from their reluctant faces that they weren't going to let her go without a full explanation. _Hadn't she done enough already?_

"When I was travelling I met a Stone-Servant in Liverpool. People called him Wirral because of his Merseyside upbringing. He'd had one too many drinks that night but I don't think it was the drink which made him strange. He was well known around the area, I picked up a lot of adjectives to describe him. He was certainly out of his tree if you know what I mean; delirious, erratic, unhinged. A right one. I asked the barman what was up with him and he'd said that Wirral had made too many pacts, sworn too many seals. He was a man who couldn't keep his word and he'd been left broken."

"And this is the man you got your _'vital information' _from? Well of course it's going to be reliable," the Gunner huffed sarcastically.

"Crazy doesn't have to mean wrong, Gunner."

"Then what did he say?"


	21. Royal

Nick entered the gloomy pub where she'd been told she would find him. It was a few days before she had to return to London which was a shame because even though she didn't like the work, she enjoyed seeing the many sights the country had to offer. She'd travelled through a lot of countryside to get here. She enjoyed seeing the other half of society; the quiet and the fresh air appealed to her. The vast expanse of green farmland, the lakes and the trees and wildlife. It seemed peaceful, far removed from the chaos of the city. It was an escape. Though it had its own hidden darkness; the black void at night scared her. The silence was a fine line between peace and a stagnant, deathly still. She was used to being in shadows but out there everything was in the dark. No streetlights. No traffic. Wild sounds creeping around, snapping twigs and rustling leaves. She yearned for freedom, but even the vast isolation of the countryside scared her. It was too much to handle after such a long time in confinement.

Nick would always be a city girl at heart. She had not left London many times before but she liked the thrill of not knowing exactly where she was or where she was going. And besides- being away from the Stone was always a blessing.

She'd never been to Liverpool before but it reminded her of London. The hustle and bustle of a busy city centre. The black cabs. The docks. The monuments and memorials. The grand cathedrals and stylish neoclassical architecture. The pigeons. Even the pub she went into reminded her of Blackfriars pub except it had a more Irish tone to it. The pub was gloomy and Nick saw all the typical client-tell she'd expect.

Wirral was on a table in a dark alcove at the back with a semi circular couch that ran around it. The tall head board behind it cordoned it off from the rest of the pub, making it more private and rather intimidating. Nick walked in and felt heads turn. She wished they would ignore, but her initiative to become lost in plain sight fell away with her lagging concentration and awkward self-consciousness. She felt so out of place walking in amongst all the middle-aged men when she herself only looked like a teenager. When she reached the bar she had a quick word with the barman who was a little mystified by the young girl in his pub, asking about the strange man at the back.

"Ay mate can youse get us another bevvie?" Wirral's strong northern dialect was hard and gritty as he called to the barman for more drink.

"Sure thing," the barman called back. "He drinks enough to keep this ale 'ouse running on its own," he smirked to Nick. He paused, taking a good look at her. "Not from round here are yer, luv?"

"London," she simply replied whilst remaining her stare to the far end of the pub where Wirral was sat.

"Ahh, knew it. Thought yous sounded posh," he smiled to himself. "Oi Wirra! Got a prezzie for youse. Some Wooly Judy's 'ere lookin' fer ya."

Wirral popped his head around the headboard of the couch. His eyes squinted through the dull light resting upon Nick while he judged up the visitor.

"A'right kidda?" he said warily.

Nick walked over with caution.

"My name's not Judy," she said as she approached. She lingered in the dank light, rocking on her toes, not sure whether to sit.

The man called Wirral chuckled.

"Is saying, is all."

He was tall and lanky, wearing dark pinstriped trousers and old, brown leather boots. He wore a loosely fitted tank top covered by a neutral brown jacket, open at the zip. His face looked old and wrinkled. His auburn facial hair sprawled densely across his chin and up the sides of his face yet the hair on top was mousey grey and wiry. He had a bad facial tick that snapped his head right back, tugging at his spinal cord which would involuntarily move other parts of his body as he made short sharp yelps unwittingly.

"Yous sure you got the right person comin' to auld Wirral 'ere? Well take a shufti, I'll get you a drink, I'll mug ya." He made a high pitch whistle through his teeth and beckoned with his finger over to the bar.

Nick sat down and looked around to make sure nobody was listening in on their conversation.

"You're Wirral, right? Servant to the Stone?" She spoke in a hushed manner with her head down so it couldn't be seen above the headboard of the couch.

Wirral put his drink down and studied the girl next to him.

"Is right."

"The Stone sent me here, to lots of cities. It wants to know whether it could count on you returning if it so wished."

"Return? Don't wanna take part in its dirty bidding no more. Though would find me in the end. Take me down easily. Suppose I'd be a bit of an 'edcase not to won't I? Look at me right, on me bill every night. 'Ere on me tod wit these poor buggars."

"Is that a yes?"

"Oh ay, to be honest with you, I'm at the end of me tether here. I'm brassik, skint. Hav' ta live off de auld dipping, you know, pick-pocketing and the like. Got no strength in dees old bones for any real graft anymore. Am truly on me arse 'ere Judy."

Yes, Liverpool really was like London. You hardly knew what the locals were saying.

He took another glug of drink then continued.

"I thought the antwaccky Stone wud'av wanted yer there now after all tha'appened t'other weekend."

"It'll want me to finish what I've started. When the fight broke out it didn't need us. That Ice Devil-thing released it. It obviously thought it could do fine without us, till them kids stopped it of course."

"Hah. Bit of a divvy then wannit?"

"Indeed."

"Really lost its ollies," he gave a loud snort.

"You what?"

"Oh, you dunno a blind werd uz sez, eh?"

Nick looked blank.

"Ollies. Marbles," he smiled.

"Why didn't you just say marbles then?"

"Don't see how marbles wud be any better than ollies. Neither of 'em make sense wen ya really think about it. I dunno what werds you know and wat you don't. I realise up in the pool we speak differently, but surely yous know how it works, dialects and tha'. You're a cockney after all."

Nick mumbled in sour agreement and took a sip of her drink. She didn't like the taste.

"You catch any of the action down in _'Landann Tannnn_' then?" He mocked a Cockney accent.

"I'd already left by the time the fighting started."

"Darrafact? Well I can see you're no wet nelly. You've got nouse. I wudda done one too. Bailed out."

"I didn't run away if that's what you're saying."

"I'm sayin' nutt'n."

"The Stone sent me away before all that!" She tried to keep calm but her frustration showed.

"Eee-ya kidda, don't get a cob-on." He held his palms up. "Don't wanna start a barney with yer. I'm jus talkin' wet. In fact, I was well made up wen I 'eard those kids had locked the Darkness back up in tha' Stone. Dead chuffed. Know we're s'pose ta stop 'em and tha' but I wudd'av given tha' Maker an handshake. So come on den, what trouble and strife has the auld Stone got its 'ead wrapped into now that it wants protecting? Coz if it's all going off, I'm always the first to leg it. Someone sussed out tha' book 'av dey?"

"Book?"

"Ay, Book of tha' City dey called it. Not 'eard of it?"

"Heard of it. Don't know of it."

"Ar-wel, the book shows the light dey say, the way of 'appenings." He made an 'O' with his mouth and shook his hands in the air, making a ghoulish sound. "Lotsa people say it don't exist, been off the record for long time now. Use'ta get passed down the royalness, Kings and Queens and that. Til the first James dat was, then it jus' vanished. Poof! Into fin air it went."

"Poof?"

"Poof!"

His head snagged back and his arm shook, spilling half his glass onto the table. Nick shuffled over to avoid the drink spilling off the side of the table onto her.

"What was in the book?" she asked intrigued.

"Asking da wrong man, chikka, but like the so called President's book it was shrouded in mystery. Often said it wuz the main valuable thing the top dog could 'av. It was said that it talked 'bout Stone its self. Sold it's secrets. Spilled all the beans. Told how to end it."

"It said how to defeat the Stone?"

"Some say. Don't axe me. Dunno ma self. I'm not a King, hah. Can't say I've 'eard speak of it for many year. Stone's made servants put a zip on it. Hush hush, yer know. All I know is tha' it spoke 'bout a gem stone. Similar to the Black Prince's Ruby I 'ear but was said to be so priceless that it neva got named for fear of name being passed 'bout and sought after. Like tha' Book it got passed down generations, but the whereabouts of tha' got lost after time too. Reckon some chief got his mits on it, no doubt it's not even in da country anymore."

He licked his dry lips and finished off the rest of the glass.

"Keep 'em comin," he whistled to the barman who shook his head with a small laugh. "Anyroad. Jus' figured out who ya're," his eyes sparkled. "Yous dat Glint who's the Stone had planned to kill in tha' fire. Bit of a legend, ain't we?" He looked down his crooked nose at her, giving a sly smile.

"It only planned to kill my family."

"Really? Thas not the way I 'eard it. Wanted ta get rid of ya good and proper like. Den its number two argued and yous got saved. Said it was ta set an example to tha rest of 'em tha' ever came along."

Nick had not heard this side of the story before.

"So I guess that's why yous was sniffing your nose about the Book, bein' who ya're and tha'. Bet da gaffer's concerned. E'orta keep a good eye on you."

"You mean because of the law?"

"Is right, Judy."

"Last orders gents." The barman rang the bell three times and Wirral shot out of his seat to be the first in line. He blurted another yelp as his head tipped, making his legs buckle while he clung on to a bar pump.

Nick remained seated, going over everything Wirral had just told her.

00000000000000000000000000

"So tell me again, what's this got to do with the Walker?" the Gunner queried.

Nick had just finished retelling what had happened with Wirral in the pub in Liverpool.

"Wirral told me that the book disappeared before James I was crowned. Before James I was Elizabeth I."

"And the Walker was her consultant, you said that before."

"Yes. She would have confided in almost anything with him. He was interested in all things supernatural. Maybe she asked him to look over it, even ask him to look after it."

"So you want to find the Book and he might know where it is?"

"More than just know about it. I think he _has_ it."

"Right. So that's why you released him?"

Nick didn't answer immediately.

"…Yes."

"I've heard of the Book. Always thought it was a myth or a metaphor or something."

"It's real alright."

"It sounds a bit far fetched really. The whole Walker thing…" George came in.

"Maybe," said Nick, "but the gem Wirral was talking about is by far the most interesting part. It can't just be coincidence that the Book talks about the gem and they both disappeared around the same time. He mentioned its similarity to the Black Prince's Ruby. Like Wirral said, it was passed down the line of the thrown. Henry VIII, Elizabeth's father would have owned it before her."

"The Black Prince's Ruby in now in the jewel house in The Tower. I remember seeing it there once when I visited."

"It is, George. A place Elizabeth got locked up herself for a while, ironically. But what happened to this other gem? Now this might just be a theory but I have for many years believed that Queen Elizabeth I had something to do with the pact the Walker made with the Stone before he was cursed. You've seen the ruby he owns."

George had taken it off her in the alleyway and kept it in his pocket. It was the purest of deep red; a glistening gules tincture of such dark saturation and clarity, inspiring courage and passion. George had been awe struck. He had seen a lot of great gems at the Tower, but this had to be the most perfect he'd ever seen. He wondered why the Walker had so willingly thrown it away.

"The Walker never said much about the gem. He generally kept it locked away but said it was a gift from someone. I think he was given it by Elizabeth I as payment to break off part of the Stone."

George looked uncertain but he went with it. Edie looked quizzical as if trying to remember something.

"Well… there's that spit of Elizabeth right outside, mounted into the side of this church. Couldn't we ask her?" said George.

The Gunner let out a small sigh.

"I'm sorry George, but it's not that simple. It doesn't work like that. Spits are the embodiment of a person. An avatar, if you like. We represent them but the personification of actual personal attributes or systemization is often far more removed than in reality, even though we try as we might."

"Wow, that's a lot of big words for you there, Gunner," George smirked.

"Dictionary," the Gunner rolled his eyes and chuckled "I'm surprised I actually remembered all that gabble he talked about. I hope you got all that because there's no way I'm saying it again."

"I'm not saying the Walker was tricked into it," said Nick. "He probably relished the challenge and was corrupted by the power. He paid the price deservedly."

"I think Nick's right," Edie broke in, "I once glinted the stone the Walker wears on the chocker around his neck. I saw a red headed lady, it must have been Elizabeth."

She remembered it now: _'…not fail us John Dee'._ That was what the woman had said before handing him something wrapped in a small, green velvet purse. She remembered her visions of glinting and concluded, "I think she did give him the ruby".


	22. Calling

Nick keeled over in a small ball on the floor. The pain from the Stone had become too much to bear. She had never left it this long before to answer. The dizziness came back to her, she felt nauseas. It felt like the contents of her mind and stomach were being overturned and wacked together. There were little flecks of light dancing across her eyes and she started to feel black creeping in on the edges of her vision. She wrapped up in a foetal position, whimpering, her eyes tightly shut to try and block it all out.

"George, I really think we should let her go."

"Okay Edie. Yes, she'd said enough."

The Gunner wasn't so sure.

"Are you certain, I mean, how do you know she won't just swan off back to the Stone and that'll be the last we ever see of her?"

"I'm not lying," Nick shrieked.

"Sob story or not, Buttercup, you're a servant and whether you want to or not I know you're capable of doing the wrong thing at the wrong time."

"I can't just sit here being a shadow, the Stone will kill me."

"Shadow?" At the very mention something clicked in the Gunner's head, and judging from his grave expression it seemed like he was running out of ideas to rebuff his theory. "No. That can't be. You're not..."

Nick stared at the floor and said nothing. The Gunner shook his head. When nothing else came from the long drawn out moment that followed George said impatiently:

"What? Who is she?"

"Oh the stories keep on coming," said the Gunner in a dead, cold sober manner. "I know who you are now. You're the Shadow, aren't you?"

Nick closed her eyes with the weight of a supernova crashing in on her. She rested her head on the floor and snivelled as the lining of her stomach blistered with acid and bile bubbled within.

"The what?" said George.

"She was part of the notorious Scraplot: a group of servants who stole statues, melted them down and sold them to scrap metal guys for a windfall. I should have realised before."

"What!" George said again, this time horrified. His mouth was left open.

Nick writhed horribly at an angle which looked like it could break her spine. She made it to a sitting position again and pushed back hard into the corner of the room.

"Tell me that's not true…tell me he's wrong," said Edie, looking to Nick with tears in her eyes.

Nick panted and stayed still. From the corner she had buried herself in, she had a view of all three of them, burning her with their stares.

"It was a long time ago," Nick said quietly. "Back in the days when more servants were in London. It was a nick-name the others gave me because I was kept well hidden by the Walker. I was his shadow, and…well, you know how sheltered he can remain, just think what that made me. The others thought I wasn't pulling my weight as a servant and that I had an unfair advantage. So they branded me as part of their gang." She pulled her neck of her hoody to the side to show them the skin just centrally to her shoulder. A pink 'S' shape was small and bleached onto her skin, looking like it had been done with a red hot poker like they saw in gangster films. There was another scar above that; a dark jagged line engraving deep into the flesh and making the top of the skin bumpy where the two sides had healed together unevenly. But before the others could examine it, Nick quickly covered herself up. "I couldn't tell no one. They would beat on me. I was all on my own."

"How could you do that when you knew what spits really were?" said Edie in a throaty sting. "How could anyone do that?"

The Gunner swallowed a lump in his throat and had to turn around and rest against the wall.

"I'm so sorry," Nick grovelled.

"You think saying that makes it any better?" yelled George. "You still did it!"

"If I remember right, she became their leader," said the Gunner.

"No," said Nick before the others had chance to rebuke. She screamed as the Stone's fury hit her again. "That's what they said. They spread my name around to get people talking. To connect the Shadow to Scraplot. That way, people would come after _me_ instead of them. They did it to threaten me for fun. The Shadow was the shortened version, it was originally the Shadow Puppet. It was a pun on how they used to pull the strings to manipulate me and terrorize my life. I tried everything I could to stop their plans. I fed false information, I sent out warnings and bribes. I tried to somehow get the police involved just to get them locked away for a while but it was too risky getting that unLondon involved. I couldn't always win. I couldn't always save them. And I am forever repentant."

Nick bowed her head and pressed into her heart with her hand. She could feel it skipping beats and slowing. She sent out a silent prayer. George and Edie turned to the Gunner, waiting to see what he would do. He turned and took his helmet off, rubbing his tired eyes and letting his fingers move back and run through his hair, before speaking to them.

"She said herself that servants have mixed morals. They don't know where their loyalties lie. She released the Walker. If we let her go how do you know she won't turn on us again? We'll plan our battle and when the time comes she'll be on their side and everything will be hunky-dory for her because if she's struck down it'll be our loss because she'll just come back from the dead and keep fighting."

"Is that what you think?" Nick tried to shout but all that was exiting her mouth were frail, slurred words. She pulled an arm up onto the window sill and tried to drag her body up to stand. She was unsteadily swaying, her eyes unfocused and her limbs trembling. "You think being a servant is all bells and whistles? You think it's that easy? That my immortality is just an easy exit route out of danger?"

"Well isn't it?" the Gunner said with a snide scoff.

"You shouldn't speak about what you know nothing about Gunner. We're not zombies! Dying isn't the same for us. Technically we don't die, so we never come back from the dead. Most people call it death however, as we definitely ain't alive during that time. Well, not alive in this world anyway. Our minds are transported to somewhere else and it the greatest thing us servants fear. Forget about your turn of day Gunner, what we face is said to be hell itself. For your information it's never happened to me. The Walker on the other hand, I've watched him leave this world and he's come back screaming. The fact that he doesn't scream anymore makes me even more scared about what he's become. Death, or whatever you want to call it, terrifies me and I'm going to have to live with it for an eternity. So don't think it's an easy ride for me, don't you dare."

The blackness caved in on its self, imploding, and when Nick could see again her vision was tinted red and she was on the floor, bent over her abdomen as another wave of pain flowed through her veins, crippling her. She couldn't breathe. The only particles of air that went through her mouth scratched the back of her sore, desert throat and was blocked from entering her lungs. This time she couldn't contain it, she dropped to all fours and was sick on the floor, swaying violently and chocking hard.

It didn't make her feel any better.

The Gunner blinked.

Nick put a foot flat on the floor but it tremmored so violently that she shuffled over to the corner instead and curled into a ball. She bit the nail on her thumb and shuddered as tears stung her eyes. The Gunner approached her slowly; a hand held out in front of him in caution. He bent down beside and rested a hand on her arm.

"Ever seen someone die, Gunner?" Nick whimpered through scattered breaths. "Because I have. A lot. You know as well as I do that those images never leave you, and its always the first that you remember most clearly. The most heinous. I was just a kid. Got walked down the Thames to a crowd of people. The atmosphere was immediately pulsing. Noticeable tension, a mixture of delight and sorrow for what was about to come. A creped anticipation and a weird, unnameable rush of emotion. The strangest feeling I've ever been present to."

"Nick-"

"In the middle of it all stood a man above the crowd. Hands tied behind his back. All eyes on him. He dropped but never touched the floor for the rope around his neck."

The Gunner wanted to break her off but knew she would continue anyway. He couldn't even find the might to try. Nick yelped at a harsh pain. He drooped his head whilst Nick opened her mouth.

"A collective gasp and a deathly silence. Then the man started struggling for he was not dead. I watched him squirm and wretch whilst time slowed and I couldn't break my eyes' fix on him. Some shouted vile names, some threw things. Others broke down in wails of despair. Some just pointed and laughed. It was all some horror spectacle display of entertainment to them until finally, his eyes glazed over and the light left them. That was the last of him. His corpse rocked slowly until nothing."

"Nick, please…"

"It's what I feel! The Stone's dark tendrils are around my neck and it keeps tugging. It temps itself to yank harder every time. And I'm trapped. It's killing me, Gunner."

She could no longer speak above a whisper. The Gunner looked into her deep green eyes and saw into her soul.

"Go back to the Stone. Answer the call" he said.

The Gunner straightened and walked away and Nick let out another whimper as George walked over and untied her hands. Nick had trouble regaining her stance so George helped her up. She was breathing again but it was shallow and made straining guttural sounds.

Nick hobbled towards the door and shrugged George away when she reached for the door.

"I'm coming with you," the Gunner said, striding towards her and touching her arm.

"Get away from me!" Nick shouted.

She swung her arm limply but it was enough for the Gunner to jump back a pace, unnerved by the fire Nick had gathered in her voice. He held his palms up in surrender. There was now darkness rooted in her eyes again. She back paced a little and her face went queasy again. She tried to regain herself. Her face was pale and her eyes were surrounded by dark purple rings. Her lips were turning blue. She actually did look like a zombie now. She frowned and he saw her hold the doorknob a little tighter. She breathed in but it was cut off mid-flow and she gasped. He knew she was trying to suppress a fresh stab of pain inside her. She didn't want to seem weak. Her body shifted as she tried to hold back a cough. She turned her back on them.

"I will t-try and find out about the Book of the City, meet me tomorrow m-morning at Hyde Park Cor-ner."

The Gunner eyed her but didn't follow.

Nick walked through the door and slammed it. She immediately regretted it though because it caused her body to scream at her. She felt little sparks of electricity in her head, causing her body to flinch and wretch uncontrollably. All her muscles and organs were attacking her. The light started to leave her eyes.

It was a short walk to Cannon Street but it seemed to last longer in Nick's head. It was already dusk. She dragged herself down the steps of St Dunstan's thinking that if she fell over she would never have the strength to pull her self back up. She slugged a few steps forward and wondered if it would have been better if the Gunner had come with her. She entered another spasm of pain and covered her mouth to cough violently. Flickers of moisture hit her palm and a rising knot of dread shuddered inside her. She pulled her hand away slowly and saw blood speckling her skin.

It was then that the fear flooded her. Would the Stone make good on its threat? Would it cripple her so much that she actually succumbed to the agony and just drop dead right then and there on the spot? She'd held back the fear before but she couldn't deny it spreading inside her. Anxious. Scared. Terrified. She liked fear, it made her aware, made her concentrate, made her think rationally. But she knew that she had to control it- let it loose and it would petrify her, freeze her and corrupt her mind so she couldn't react. It would create a gateway for the Darkness to seize and take control.

She was often scared, many people didn't realise because she was good at hiding it. This was because the one thing even worse than fear for Nick was people _knowing_ she was scared. That was her greatest fear. If people knew, they would use it against her. Once they had a lever, they could destroy her.

In ways, Nick believed that not being a Glint anymore was a blessing. A heart stone was a Glint's greatest strength, but it was also their greatest weakness. She had all the world and all the time to lose it in. She had enemies, and those knowing her Achilles heel would make her too vulnerable. Therefore the Stone could not have a weakness in one of its servants either. As much as she admitted it was easier to live without it, she knew she would never quite be who she was suppose to be without it. Part of her was gone. Her identity. Without it, she was whatever the Stone crafted her into.

But these emotions that made her at risk, it wasn't just fear, it was hate and rage. Probably happiness and love too, although she didn't have much use for them anymore. All these big emotions at the ends of the extremes. She couldn't let people know what she was feeling. It was too dangerous.

An accomplished liar, she could hide it from many people. The Walker, she had more trouble with. He would always know when she was scared but she acted so stubborn and never gave in that he found it humorous and gave her a lighter sentence. She couldn't hide it from the Stone. She had managed to lie to it once with her list but that was mostly luck. Who's to say it hadn't known? It was too complex for Nick to fathom out. The list was minor in proceedings to Nick and she had outright confidence dealing with that issue unlike dealing with her emotions, which were a minefield. Her protective shell wouldn't help her now, the darkness was already inside, feeding off her insecurities. It had her hooked. There was no point denying, no point defending; it had already won right from the moment she was cursed.

Right now she felt scared of what the Stone could inflict upon her. Her breathing was scarce as the weight crushed down on her. Each step became like walking on hot coals. Her head felt like it was being stabbed with icicles and blasted with hot fire at the same time.

Things unexpectedly took a turn for the better. Nick was halfway there when the pain seemed to ease until she could walk briskly, and then she could run. She got to St Pauls cathedral and noticed the Walker walking towards her. She ran up to him.

"What did you tell it?" she yelled, surprising herself that her voice sounded normal again. Her throat didn't hurt anymore and her muscles were relaxed. She had energy. She was ready to attack. "You back-stabber!"

The Walker slowed, went to open his mouth to talk then thought better of it. He carried on walking.

"The Stone doesn't need you anymore. It has the names."

There was a slight lisp to his words. One of his eyes looked red. He barged past knocking her to the side as he forged ahead, a slight limp in his step. The bottom of one of his trouser legs and part od his coat were soaked.

The Stone had gotten what it wanted and had called off the call for her. She didn't want to advance to the Stone anymore. She reversed back the way she had arrived and chased after the Walker, but he was lost.


	23. Rain

"Talkin' about turn o'day, it's getting nearer, I best be getting back," the Gunner stood and wrapped up in his long trench coat. "Looks like it's gonna rain."

The Clocker had now joined them again.

"Ah yes, plinth calling etcetera. The young'uns can stay here tonight. If they wish," he said.

George and Edie were relieved. They'd had a long day and did not wish to trample back across London. Dark clouds hung over the city and they thought the Gunner was right about the rain.

"Okay, have a good night. Get some rest and I'll see you two bright and early at the Corner. Hopefully Nick will keep her word and return with some info."

"You think she'll be alright?" asked Edie.

"We can only hope."

They said there goodbyes and the Gunner left the room on his way back towards Hyde Park.

The Clocker stayed with the two kids for a while talking before letting them rest and retreating upstairs. He liked George and Edie. They were good kids; strong, brave and clever. He enjoyed their company. Having someone decent to talk to was rare these days. Listening to someone talk made him forget the constant ticking from his eye, the unvarying noise which would stay with him, driving him mad until the end of days. Such a blight it was. It made him mad, crazy. But he was surprised he wasn't quite insane yet. He hoped he wasn't anyway. Surely if you're insane you wouldn't be thinking about whether you were or not. _Would you? No, stop it. You're not insane. Not a loon_. The thought played around in his mind. Like the Walker, he didn't sleep. He had to perpetually keep an eye on the time, and how would he do that if he was asleep?

He rested his head in his hands. In this quiet room it seemed even louder, echoing of the inside of his head. _Come on, forget it. Ignore it._ He had escaped his curse briefly when the Ice Murk had caused time to fall out of joint and stop. His eye had ceased to pulse. That void of time was pure heaven without the ticking, but he'd worked as hard as he could to help the Queen of Time get it running again because of the implications to the rest of the world. They had succeeded, time continued and so did all the cogs and the turning of the hands on his eye. It was a bitter sweet moment, to say the least.

He thought about them arriving with her. The girl he used to know. The girl he used to care for. The girl he hated. He let out another sigh mixed with a groan and he hit the wall with his hand. He'd spent so many years blaming her. He just needed someone to blame. A scapegoat. When bad things happen, people need a figure to hate, someone to release their anger at. It just seems easier. For him, it was Nick. She'd been there, she was the reason he was still on this Earth. He felt something wet fall down his face. _Come on, stop it. _He'd learnt early on that crying only made the hands on his clock eye start to rust and it would hurt. It was as much a part of him as his own heart.

He felt bad for hating her for so long, deep down he knew it didn't make him any better. Deep down, he knew she was only trying to help. _What if? What if I never got caught? Oh shut up. Of course I would've. There was too much risk, she knew that and what she did was right. _He felt awful for arguing against her for so long. It was unfair, she'd been through so much as well. Maybe if he hadn't been so harsh on her they still would have been friends and things could have been easier. _No point thinking about past time now. Present time is all matters. Tick Tick Tick. Stop it._ He stared through the window, it was dark now but he could see the lashings of rain in the light from a nearby lamp post. He wished the weather would be good tomorrow, they were going to need it. He had something to strive for now, for everyone's benefit. He promised himself that he would make up for the mistakes he had made all these years. If Nick had a plan, he would do whatever he could to help. He had finally forgiven her, and he felt the relief torrent through him. All the anger he'd held inside had left, and he felt a better man. He would proove it.


	24. Dreams

The Walker entered the apartment. It was small and dingy. A faint smell of rot wood drifted through the place. The window was open and it was dark outside. The fragments of the weather-beaten curtain were flapping in the wind. Splashes of rain were spitting through the gap, seeping into scraps of paper covered in scribbles strewn across a small coffee table piling up, stacking into messy piles. He raced over and closed the window. He picked up some papers; some were so drenched they were falling apart in his hands; the ink had smudged on others. He swore under his breath. He placed some on top of the radiator and strolled the room taking his coat off which had become so heavy in the rain it was a relief to be free of it. The room was dismal. Wallpaper barely clung on, most of it was in patches between bare plaster. The carpet was worn so thin the pattern was unrecognisable. There was only one seat. The top layer of material was in tatters causing the padding to bleed out of it. It was beyond need of repair but he didn't care. He never spent much time in the apartment anyway.

He walked passed a mirror which was shattered but the pieces still fitted together, scarcely hanging in between the frame. One piece was just large enough for him to catch a glimpse of his whole face. He stared at what remained of his bad eye and scowled. Seeing the damage for the first time seemed to bring the pain back. He tightened his fist, nails digging into his palms. He moved into the next room bumping into the wall. He swore again. Having the sight in one eye rendered useless had crippled him. He rested his head in his hands taking some deep breaths. Out the corner of his good eye he saw something move and he jumped back reaching into his pocket to brandish his knife. He then relaxed seeing over to the bed where Nick was lying fast asleep. He walked gently over to it, making sure not to wake her.

He noticed the disc player on the shabby and rotting bedside cabinet. It was the only thing in the room that wasn't covered in dust. It looked new. The screen was flashing on pause and he silently shifted to it and pressed the play button at the same time as his foot lashed out and hit the underside of the bed. The music suddenly enthralled the silence and Nick jolted upright and made a panicked whimper.

"Turn that racket off," snarled the Walker with an ugly smile.

Nick hurried and slapped the CD player haphazardly. It tipped off the table and crashed to the floor, the _Iron Maiden _song dying out and the screen now cracked. She frowned.

"It's not a racket," she said back and despite herself broke into a charred grin. "It was good actually. The lyrics to that song in particular are…interesting, to say the least."

"Where did you get it?"

Nick shrugged.

"Stole it."

"You've been putting the skills I've taught you to good use then?" he said with excess sarcasm in his tone.

"I've got to practice somehow."

"For someone who hates drawing attention to themselves, you're remarkably stupid taking big risks for so little winnings."

"What, you don't think I have the intellect to outsmart someone from the lesser world? Relax, if anyone _does_ complain you can just do the whole _'these are not the droids you are looking for'_ stint and we're off the hook."

The Walker looked at her like he didn't have a clue what she was saying. Nick yawned then slammed her head back against the pillow in annoyance.

"Just because you can't sleep doesn't mean you should take it away from everybody else" she scoffed.

"Oh I am sorry for disturbing your pretty little dreams." He lingered for a moment before turning away.

"My dreams are worse beyond what you could ever imagine" she shouted after him.

He slowed slightly before walking out. He had often seen her violently and uncomfortably twisting over in bed. Her body jarring at impossible angles. It looked like a fight inside. Torture in her mind. He shivered at the recollection of how she would often wake up screaming. One night he had found her sleep-walking and awakened her after she seized a knife. He'd had to wrestle the knife out of her spooked, iced hands and restrain her. She had woke up hollowing a torrent of abuse, uncontrollably shaking and in floods of tears.

She was wrong however, he could imagine.

Nick rubbed her eyes then swung her legs over the side of the bed. She had waited for him to return, it was the only place where she knew he would go. He had kept the apartment for many years. Like himself, the room seemed to go unnoticed by the landlord whom the Walker had convinced he'd bought instead of renting it. He didn't use it often but it was a shelter in the cold winter months and a place to keep all his books. He had so many.

She walked uneasily over to the doorframe and rested against it, biting the nail of her thumb, her look fixed on the Walker pacing the room and scrutinising over some of the scribbles on a bunch of paper grasped in his hand. She saw the small pearl on his earring. Cloudy and white with a slight pink hue. Had she imagined it glow before?

"Walker…" she said quietly.

He carried on parading around the room like he hadn't heard her before going back over to the coffee table. He reached out and smacked a pile of paper, sending them rushing and fluttering, before settling on the floor, all over the place.

"John…"

Nick's serene voice appeared to calm him. He stood with his back to her, hunched over the table, leaning on to it with arms tense outstretched onto what Nick could just make out as a worn out book on language translation. He rocked on his feet with his one good eye closed.

Nick wondered about what she was about to ask of him. She had to choose the right moment to ask because his mood was so changeable. He could betray her again but Nick knew that time was running out and there were so few times the two of them were alone together. She had to risk it.

"I need your help" she said innocently.

The Walker slowly turned round to face her. He stared at her but said nothing. His face was unreadable. Nick closed her eyes as she spoke again;

"I need the Book of The City".

A small muscle twitched under his bad eye. He pushed off the table and treaded carefully towards her. Nick stood her ground but felt uneasy.

"And how would you come to know about that?" he asked. He wasn't aggressive nor was there any accusation or intimidation in the way he spoke.

"Do you know where it is?" Nick didn't falter.

How she knew wasn't important. She had asked the question first. He needed to answer. She was still afraid he might turn on her. Hit her or tie her down somewhere as punishment. A penalty. The Walker always got the upper hand in the end.

He looked down and shook his head whilst taking one more step towards her. Now he was right in front of her. He noticed the white line down her cheek, the faint scar she had obtained as he'd pushed her to the floor in the alley. He placed each of his hands onto the side of her shoulders and felt one of them shift awkwardly with a twitch under his grip. He eased off a bit seeing the constrain in her tight body to hide it and brought her so that they were looking straight into the depths of each other's eyes. Dark violet met dark green as they studied each other for a moment, each trying to read what the other was thinking. The Walker spoke first.

"Look, the Stone is getting restless. Things are more dangerous now than ever. Whatever you're planning, whatever you intend on doing it might have serious repercussions. If it goes wrong I can't keep covering for you. What are you up to?"

Nick didn't understand. Was the Walker showing some kind of compassion towards her? What did he mean by _'keep'_? Did he know more about her ideas than she thought?

"Do you know where it is or not?" was all she replied, adamant to get an answer and trying to keep the nerve out of her voice.

He held her stare for a few more seconds hoping that she would let him into her thoughts, but he was getting nothing. He took some steps back and sighed.

"I burnt it" he ceased.

The two of them hung on the spot, the Walker only swaying slightly from foot to foot as he always did, unable to rest. For a short time only the patters of rain against the window glass and a faint rasp of wind sweeping thought the cracks in the seals could be heard. Nick's face showed worry and dejection. The onsets of hyperventilation suspended in the back of her throat. The book; the confirming evidence that could tell them how to defeat the Stone was destroyed. That was it.

"Why?" Nick's question came out as a whisper.

"Why?" the Walker's face creased up into bewilderment "You called me a back-stabber earlier, but you seem to be forgetting who's side you're on. It's too dangerous to play games."

"I don't want to be on its side."

"You think I enjoy being cursed?"

"Yet you'll destroy the one thing that could free us?"

"The Stone found out I had it."

"Then let God have pity, for there is no hope left for us all."

She'd had enough. She turned her back and made for the door making sure she slammed it on her way out. She had no idea what time it was or where she was going. The harsh weather battered down on her and she was soaked within seconds, but she needed to be anywhere away from here. Anywhere.

The Walker swore and scrambled the papers at the table frantically until finding the piece he needed. It had not been damaged by the rain. He tightened his grasp on it thinking hard, pacing the room, then he neatly folded it up and placed it into the inside pocket of his coat which still hadn't dried but put back on regardless and left the apartment into the cold and wet. He set off down the street searching for the sight of Nick through the thick rain. He tried to quicken his pace but the rain that was already clogging in his shoes was weighing upon him and with every step it became harder. He looked left and right.

No sign of her.


	25. Nothing

"What if the Gunner's right? Can we really trust her, Edie?"

It was late but George couldn't sleep. The room of St Dunstan's was cold and spooky but that wasn't what was keeping him up. The thoughts of the day's events kept replaying in his mind. Everything that had happened. Everything that had been said. He wished the Gunner didn't have to return to his plinth. He would keep him from worrying.

"We have to, don't we?" Edie replied, also wide awake and shivering, looking at her heart stone like it held the answers.

"What if it _is _a trap? She fooled us before with her homeless story. She's good. It's just that… I'm just not sure about her, is all."

"My mother once told me what the greatest thing in the world was. She said it isn't money or power or love. And it isn't even happiness. It's hope."

"What about false hope? Underplaying the situation with too much confidence is bad, Edie."

"But it get's stuff done. Even if Nick is lying, her words are fact; the Darkness in the Stone is ever present. It won't stop thinking and it won't stop planning. It might be harmless in that shell of rock but its still got it's servants. It will carry on until it's stopped- and it must be stopped, George. Something needs to be done. We have to trust Nick because her word is all we've got. We need to hope."

George stared at the floor but nodded. Edie was watching him for a reply but it looked like he was too deep in thought to answer.

"Anyway, we had to let her leave. You saw what she looked like. She couldn't have faked that," Edie added.

"No."

"And here's me thinking we were going to get a quiet weekend," she laughed, trying to get the atmosphere a little lighter.

A slight smile made its way on to one side of George's mouth, but out of kindness, not amusement.

"Yeah. We better get some sleep. It's going to be busy tomorrow."

He rested his head on the small pillow the Clocker had provided him with. Edie did the same with hers. She shifted about for a while before remaining still. George found it more difficult to sleep. Whatever was stuffing the pillow had coagulated into uneven shaped bumps which made it lumpy and very uncomfortable. Still, it was better than nothing, he thought. The blanket he had didn't do much to keep out the cold, and the woven material scratched into his skin. It was very itchy. Still, it was better than nothing. _Better than nothing._ That's what George kept telling himself. Soon it changed from the pillow and the blanket to Nick's words. _Could they really beat the Stone? Could they really trust her word? Still, it was better than nothing. It was hope._


	26. Fight

Nick hurried down the empty street, leaving the apartment and the Walker far behind her in the dark gloom of the night. The rain wasn't as heavy now but it was still bad enough to see less clearly. She squinted as she walked. A dire, raw feeling was clasping around her throat, making it difficult to breathe. She stopped for a moment to regain herself and couldn't hear anything except the sound of her own breathing in the still emptiness. Little flecks of rain drifted on the air and dampened her skin, but she didn't feel the cold. She didn't feel anything.

The book was gone. Destroyed. Now how would she ever find out how to defeat the Stone? The thought played on her mind.

_What about the Glint? Would she be safe? _

While Nick was thinking, she failed to notice the three shadowy figures shifting down the street at a slow crawl. That was until one of them shouted. Some slurred, non-sensicle comment aimed in Nick's direction. She looked. One of them was staggering around, swaying from one step to the other into the light underneath a lamp post. Another had his arm wrapped around the third man's shoulder, apparently holding him up.

_Bloody drunks._

It was too late for Nick to hide now. They had seen already seen her and there weren't any alleys to loose sight of her in. Nick started walking back.

"Oii luv! Come here!" one of them shouted.

_Ignore them._

Nick continued to walk. She was about to break into a run when her foot caught under something and before nothing, she was falling. Her ankle twisted on the uneven pavement and she went onto all fours. She closed her eyes to block out the pain and stood up. Taking a step forward she was confronted by one of the men standing right in front of her. Nick gasped and wondered how had they caught up with her so fast. She turned round quickly but another stood there too. They had surrounded her already. Nick looked from man to man. The third guy was propping himself up a little further back. He turned his back on them and urinated on the lamp post.

"What's the matter luv?" the man in front of Nick grinned.

Nick could smell the alcohol on his grim breath. Could see the stains where he'd spilt it down his jacket. Could see his pupils struggling to focus. She edged further backwards on her toes and thought a single thought deeply in the back of her mind. The guy behind her had rounded back towards his mate so he could see her face.

"What's a pretty girl like ya self doin' out 'ere all alone? And so late too," the first man- who was presumably the leader of the group- asked.

"I don't want no trouble," Nick breathed.

"Well then. Ya should've really answered me first time. You ain't scared, are ya?" he reached down into the pocket on his tracksuit bottoms. Nick's eyes followed his hand and saw a flash of light reflecting of metal. He held a knife out towards Nick's throat. "What ya scared for?" he mocked.

His friend snickered in approval with a callow smile. As they glared at her, the third man walked towards them, whistling the tune of 'London Bridge is falling down' slowly and eerily, echoing down the street, the song getting louder as he approached with quiet, sunken footsteps. The darkness covered his face. For a moment all Nick could do was stand still, mind too stunned to try and make them forget about her. She watched the silhouette grow larger and closer, engulfing the space around it, the sound of the children's nursery rhyme provoking a terror in her much deeper than she knew he would have caught up on. The two other men had gone quiet awaiting his arrival. He stood right before her, too close, looking down at her with dark eyes. Even though Nick's stomach felt unsteady and called for her to back away, she stood her ground.

"You're not interested in me. You don't even see me. You want to turn around now and walk away," Nick declared.

The man took one step forward, face finally entering the light, and looked at her with dull confusion. His head cocked to the side and he chewed the inside of his mouth, waiting for his inebriated mind to make sense of things. Then his head rocked forward and he scoffed a pig laugh at her, spit flying everywhere.

"What you on about girl? You crazy?"

The other guys began to laugh. Nick scowled. She'd hoped that would work. She'd seen the Walker control people so many times without a second thought. She hadn't succeeded. She wouldn't be able to hide in plain sight now, not unless...

She got prime and ready on her toes. Not ready enough.

The guy in front looked Nick up and down for a second, then threw a hand out that hit her square in the shoulder. He had been so sluggish up to that point that the speed of it caught her off guard. The force was tremendous and it threw her backwards, once again knocking her off her feet. She landed in a puddle. She tried to look up at them but flickers of rain found her eyes and blinded her. They all laughed harder as she scrambled on all fours backwards trying to get away. The three of them only drew closer.

Something made a noise.

At the end of the street behind the guys, a bottle smashed. It echoed down the street, magnifying as it reverberated off the stone walls. The guys all turned round trying to locate where the noise had come from. Nothing could be seen at the end of the street. The silence became errie. The guys' heightened sense of caution soon packed in as they wore out and finally gave up, turning back around to finish with their prey.

"What the…?" said all three men collectively.

The girl was gone. In a second she had totally vanished. The street was long and narrow with no obstacles to hide behind. They would have heard her footsteps if she'd tried to run away. It was impossible. The third man shrugged and remembered something. One of the men walked back over to the tree where he had left their drinks.

The sound of bottles clattering were heard as they made a toast to themselves and their good looks, then made their way towards the nearest pub, already having forgotten about the girl.

But of course, Nick was right there, standing right in front of them. Using everything she had to not make them see her.

She had the right mind to punch one of them but resisted. They were scum from the lesser world. They weren't worth it.

She started to limp down the street, her head throbbing and her clothes wet when suddenly something grabbed her shoulder. She swung round to knock it away, thinking the lads had snuck up on her again, but she was trounced by a hand covering her mouth. She closed her eyes as she was forced back against the wall. As she opened them again she saw the Walker holding up a finger against her lips, urging her to be silent.

"You're a sleight of a shadow," he glowered. "You put shame to your nickname, Nick."

Nick made a face and he realised his fingers were digging hard into her spent shoulder. He let go and her body swooned, his body close beside being the only thing holding her up before she found her feet again. Nick blinked and understood. The Walker had smashed the bottle. He'd made the moment of distraction so that Nick could use the last of her strength to disappear. Her shoulders drooped and she leant her head forward, burying it into his chest in relief. He gently released his hand away from her mouth and held her for a quiet moment. Then he took a step back to let Nick catch her breath.

"You alright?" he asked in a voice which sounded more of a burden than a concern.

As she took some more breaths she asked herself the same question. She was a little shaken and still angry at him, but she must admit, he had come to her rescue and she was grateful for him being there.

"M'fine," she sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, embarrased. She didn't like him to think she couldn't take care of herself.

"Good," he said calmly whilst taking another step back. He produced the neat folded bit of paper out of his coat pocket. He looked at her for a second, hesitant, but finally gave in to whatever thought was in his head and stretched out his arm towards her. "Here. It's all you need."

He watched as she unfolded it and began to read. By the end she looked at him bewildered.

"I don't understand," she said simply.

"It's all that was said about you in the Book. Nothing else."

"About me?"

"No. Such as you. Or to cut it thinly-"

"Such as I used to be. Glints. Yeah, I get it." Nick read it again and realised that it had stopped raining. "I didn't mean that though, I meant, I don't understand why you're giving it to me."

"Because once an idea gets in your head you don't stop looking until you have the answer. It would send you on a collision course. I'm giving it you now so if you do ever figure it out, you'll know not to bother because you're wasting your time."

For some reason something he'd said didn't add up right to Nick. The Walker was taking a huge risk keeping something the Stone wanted destroyed. And if it were pointless, why did he still have it? Now he'd let Nick on it as well. She wondered why he had.

"Thank you," she said gratefully.

The Walker looked at her with suspicion, thinking she'd misheard him. She stared down at the paper with cushy eyes and he had a nagging in him to snatch it away again. But then she looked up and caught his eye, and as they looked at each other for once neither of them saw fear or anger in the other's eyes. It was just an understanding that both of them agreed on.

"Welcome," he replied.

They both started walking again, this time together, in silence.

Nick, for once, hadn't paid any attention to her surroundings since leaving the flat, yet still didn't look around for any sign as wandering aimlessly was something she needed to do to clear her mind. She wanted to forget where she was. She rounded a corner and came to a halt so abruptly that the Walker, who was following close behind, would have surely stumbled into her. However, he lucidly sidestepped around her, barely thinking about it until after it happened, his long coat swishing around the side of him, making the whole move look majestic. Even being blind in one eye would not bring him down. He smiled secretly. He made two quick takes, one to where Nick was staring, and the other back at Nick to reassess her expression.

The corner they were on was not far from St Barts. The building Nick was facing housed an alcove wall harbouring the Golden Boy of Pye Corner. The small, rather chubby child stood naked on his plinth, arms gilded and crossed across his chest, showing a stuck-up stance of disobedience. He spotted the two servants watching him and tensed up, a nervous shiver taking hold of his body, backing up against the wall behind him.

"Get lost filthy vermin," said the boy, spoken with a pompous high-pitched arrogance. He straightened and lifted his chin up so that he talked looking down his nose at them.

Nick bit her tongue to resist acting upon the insult and the Walker merely shrugged it off as something not worth his bother, only a small arching off his top lip to show mild hindrance. The boy, who merried himself having apparently gotten away with his remarks, pushed up on his tiptoes, lifting him a little further higher than the inferior slaves below. The Walker went back to surveying Nick, her eyes sad and riddled with deep thoughts, moving from side to side as she read the plaque below the plinth. Out of the corner of one eye, she saw the Golden Boy stick his tongue out and blow a raspberry at her.

She'd been here before. She'd read the plaque before. She'd read it so many times in fact, that the words had been memorised. But there was something different about actually being there, seeing it, reading it with her own eyes. The connection of a first person perspective that made it all the more real.

This was where the Great Fire of London had been stopped.

"Gluttony," Nick quoted with a bitter suppression of old fury. She turned to face the Walker, speaking directly to him. "Greed. The weakness of yearning. A swinish hankering for unreachable and undeserved treasures. Makes me sick. I've seen it happen all too often in this world. All worlds. People never learn. They don't stop until something truly terrible happens. And it's always the good people who pay the price. The innocent. It's them who suffer the damage. The sad truth is that the only real way of learning is from mistakes, not logic. And this is the how it ends. No one wins."

She communicated the rest through her eyes which the Walker fought to keep in contact with. Then she rolled her bad shoulder, easing out a tight knot in the muscles from her neck. The chubby child folded his arms tighter across his chest and huffed in dismissal and as she turned. Nick harrumphed and walked back the way of their apartment. The Walker pulled his hood tighter around his face and followed close behind.


	27. Riddle

As soon as the sun rose Nick left the apartment. As usual, the Walker had left before her. She doubted he even stayed after she fell asleep. She ran all the way to Hyde Park corner with the paper the Walker had given her clutched in her hand.

She arrived not the slightest bit out of breath and hovered under the far white arch of the Screen entrance to the park, hoping she could blend in with the roaming pedestrians exiting the tube station. A high-pitched whistle pierced the sky above her in the distance; the little boy in the chariot on Wellington arch giving the Quadriga warning alarm. Nick cursed under her breath and let her hood fall back, stepping into the light. She decided to walk around the edge of the roundabout, thereby keeping her clear from all the other spits that would not like to see her there. She kept the busy road between herself and the Memorial, knowing that if she was chased it would slow the others down crossing it.

"Bit of trouble, Gunner?" said the Officer, appearing round the corner of the war memorial.

"Stand easy, I knew she was coming. That's the one I told you about," the Gunner nodded his head to point Nick out to him.

"She's the Shadow? Poppycock!"

"I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss it as nonsense. I bet a lot of fools made that mistake. Too easy to misjudge her but she ain't no minor street urchin."

"She only looks a few years on Edie."

"Exactly. It's what makes her dangerous."

"Well the Walker certainly pulled the wool over everyone's eyes. Crafty bastard."

They both paused and looked at Nick again, she was now wavering unsteadily on the edge of the roundabout, uncertain whether to move ahead anymore. She waved sheepishly to the Gunner while the Quadriga blazed again.

"Best be off," said the Gunner. "We might need you at some point so keep on your toes. You never know when things'll go pear-shaped."

"And if everything goes to plan?" the Officer asked.

"We'll still need you."

"Right-ho."

"Truth be told, I ain't got a bleeding Scooby about what the plan actually is."

The Gunner stepped off his plinth and jogged to meet her at the edge of the roundabout.

"Look. I've got it, the answer," said Nick handing the paper to him.

The Gunner ran his eyes across it. It wasn't long before George and Edie joined them, as they had planned.

"Bit of a mind-boggler isn't it?" the Gunner said, passing the paper to George.

When George finished reading he scratched his head and passed it again without being able to comment. Edie read it out loud hoping things would be clearer. The paper read;

_Near the one that was gone but was never there,_

_Brave Kings awaken when fools start to dare,_

_The one which is yours is the way the eye stares. _

_The sound is the place a Cityborn's home,_

_Right colours are only as good as they're grown, _

_Pursue the gem light from where it is shown._

_Scale luck or weigh fate, seek the role of advice,_

_The Stone is a weapon for all seven vice,_

_Just like the mice, defeat is part thrice. _

"A riddle?" Edie's voice strained, tittering off at the edge of her windpipe.

"Sounds like something the Sphinxes would say," Nick declared.

"Oh I might of known," Edie said with a shake of the head. She tried to keep her voice calm but it was clearly difficult for her to hold the frustration back.

The Gunner stepped forward.

"Nick, I shouldn't have said what I did yesterday. I'm sorry."

"Not needed," Nick meagerly brushed the apology away and smiled back. "I couldn't make any sense out of it."

"Maybe the clues were written specifically to mean something to the one that could carry it out," Edie enquired.

"Maybe," Nick replied but shook her head. She read it through again but nothing big was jumping out.

"Tell you who'd be good figuring it out," the Gunner perked up, "Dictionary".

"_The Stone is a weapon_, that must mean the London Stone," said George.

"Yeah? No kiddin' Sherlock!" Nick interjected with a spoof of annoyance.

"Cut the sarc, Nick, we're just trying to help," said the Gunner. He paused for a moment. "Although now you've mentioned him; Sherlock would be worth paying a visit to. Hmmm. It would mean taking us further out of London though."

"And a vice," said Nick, "well that's something immoral like a sin. And seven, right? Seven deadly sins. It also talks about 'gem light', well…what about the gem we have?"

George reached into his pocket and removed the sparkling stone that he had kept. The light bounced off the smooth sheen of it and danced in his eyes.

"Could be," he said staring deeply into the centre of it, entranced by the beauty.

"Maybe we should go to the Sphinxes, see if they can help us," said the Gunner.

Edie went very tense. She grinded her teeth together.

"When do they ever help? The Sphinxes won't make things any easier."

Nick was the bravest to raise the question;

"Why don't we go to the Sphinxes? We've got to at least check…" she flew a glance towards Edie who looked growingly frustrated, and Nick wouldn't be surprised if steam started to billow out of her ears. "And Gunner can go to Dictionary."

"I think that's the best idea," said George. "As long as we can _please_ get the bus. I've done enough running across London to last me a lifetime."

Nick snorted. _He had no idea_.

The Gunner looked at Nick wondering whether he should leave the two in her company, but in the end he couldn't think of a better plan and agreed.

"Fine, but I'll walk if you don't mind. Buses aren't exactly the best way for a living bronze soldier to keep inconspicuous," he said, setting off and leaving them to their plans.

"We should have it cracked in no time," Nick smiled, trying to keep the confidence up.


	28. Ride

The bus pulled up to the stop. Nick would have preferred to run but the others would lag behind. The usual gather of people bunched near the door both inside and out. The engine wheezed to a standstill and the door slid open. People forced there way in both directions. George swiped his oyster card as he stepped up and Edie did the same but Nick drifted past the driver who barely took a second glance. He didn't seem to notice her.

"I've picked up a few habits from my old colleague in crime," Nick smirked at Edie who was looking blissfully confused.

The bus made its way down Piccadilly, meandering through the usual traffic that gathered at this time of day. The conversation between George and Edie started to flow between the mixes of genres young people talked about these days. Nick didn't join in. She knew the happenings of the city like the best of them but she didn't feel connected. She wasn't an element of the world George and Edie still considered themselves part of; the world Nick had been made absent from countless years ago, now only ashes that lined the foundations of this new London.

Her sight drifted through the window watching brightly coloured windows of shop fronts blur by. The bus trundled onto the roundabout besides Trafalgar Square and Nick observed the sights which were all too common; the many tourists taking photos, an old man on a bench sneakily throwing the pigeons the remains of his sandwich and children playing merrily, throwing coins into the fountain and making wishes. Her eyes cast a quick look on to the new installation on the forth plinth. '_Nelson's ship in a bottle'_ they called it. Then the bus rounded on to Northumberland Avenue and pulled into a stop just as the ship went out of view.

"Wait!" Nick's abrupt call made the woman behind jump. She hadn't appeared to notice the young girl sitting in front of her. "That's it!" Nick had already jumped up and was heading for the front of the bus.

George and Edie who were a little distracted from their conversation were slow to follow but the three of them managed to make it off the bus before the driver closed the door. He hesitated, seeing the three people exit and begin a conversation deep in chatter. _Were they all with each other? _He was sure he only saw two of them get on. Then he closed the doors and had a weird feeling that he'd forgotten his trail of thought. He drove off without a care in the world.

"Look it's there!" Nick pointed briefly before darting off into the crowd, knocking into a group of Chinese tourists who beckoned to her, making a box shape with their fingers and holding out a camera.

Nick said some words which didn't connect right with George's ears. It was only by judging the tourists expression that he realised they understood her. Nick dashed behind them and by the time they turned around, she had already gone.

George and Edie looked at each other mystified. They hurried back towards the square. Nick was a fast runner, she was already well ahead. She sometimes felt she could run forever. The debt of oxygen that would eventually build in her muscles would grow, but she could keep going without slowing down. She often wondered if this had something to do with being cursed, her physical healing was quicker. Not mental healing though, unfortunately. She reached the plinth quickly, examining it without even needing to catch her breath.

The other pair were slow to catch up, despite them both being quite fit the sudden burst of energy seemed to knock the vigour out of George who stooped over, resting his hands on his knees taking in deep breaths. He'd not been back here since the battle between the spits and taints. It held too many bad memories. His mind flashed to seeing the Gunner being impaled by the Newton, seeing him dying, seeing the Officer's head blown open and the Euston Mob with taint heads as they fired at their own people. All the sounds and screams of carnage. He scrunched up his eyes and forced the images out of his head. Snapping his eyes open again, he looked around and couldn't believe how different it now looked with all the people. It looked normal. But he knew how things balanced out, and for everything normal, there was something the opposite lurking just around the corner.

"This is it," Nick pointed out.

"You speak Chinese?" said George.

The question perplexed Nick who was busy trying to show them something.

"A bit, I guess. When you've been around as long as I have you just sort of pick it up," she answered back, a little sad that they weren't paying attention.

"What else haven't you told us about?"

Nick caught his eye with a cautious stealth warning and gave him the cold shoulder. She pulled her hood up, not wanting to be noticed by the people roaming.

"Look. The first part of the riddle. It meant this," she said.

Edie went through the first verse again in her head; '_Near the one that was gone but was never there…'_

"The forth plinth!" Nick exclaimed. "Built in 1841 by Sir Charles Barry with the objective to hold a statue, a spit of William IV." Nick shone with delight at her own thoughts. "But they never did get a statue of him there because they ran out of money! A few years later another spit was put in its place but it got taken down. Ever since then all that's occupied the plinth has been a succession of art works and installations."

George remembered seeing a news piece the year before which talked about members of the public being able to stand on the plinth for an hour doing whatever they liked. He remembered a funny little man dressed in a costume doing a dance for charity. Then he remembered how he had left the Walker on top of it when he was trapped in stone. Even he didn't last long there.

"William IV was never there," Nick reiterated. Her body was awakened, her whole conscious was alert and aware and excited at the prospect that laid before them. "Brave Kings…." she contemplated, scanning her eyes over all four corners. "The first line of the riddle led us here so the rest of the verse has to do with the Square."

George and Edie were impressed; they also put their minds to the test, scanning over and over the next line of the riddle.

"King George IV," George said, pointing to another plinth.

Nick thought about it. There was also the spit of King Charles I on the roundabout by the Square.

"The riddle says 'Kings' but there is only one King on the actual square," she said, putting her hands behind her head which was throbbing with all the concentration.

"You're wrong," a loud voice came from above them. They looked up to see the High Admiral was watching them. "There are four more." He pointed downwards with the tip of his sword to the large, bronze lions guarding the base of the column. "Kings of the jungle, right? And lions are very brave," he smiled.

George looked at Edie with excitement. After the Ice Devil had escaped and frozen time, an almighty battle between spits and taints had erupted in the Square. The Gunner had told George that some believed the lions would only come alive when the land was at its deepest peril, that they only had one purpose to fulfil. The Last Lions they were called. This had to be what the clue meant; he was sure of it.

"Thank you," George called up to him.

The Admiral gave a nod and once again set to watching the skyline of the city. Nick was prancing about with exhilaration. They had almost cracked it. None of them said anything, pondering the second part of the sentence.

"_When fools start to dare_. What does that mean?"

After more thought they collectively said they didn't know.

"So, does the third line imply that one of the lions is ours?" Edie mentioned. She'd had enough of second-guessing the fool part.

George clambered up over to one of the lions to get a closer look before moving around to the next one. Eventually he had made his way back round to Edie.

"All the eyes are the same, they all just stare forward," he moaned.

"No, not all," Nick mumbled so quietly that the others didn't hear her. She was so close. She knew the explanation to solving it was on the tip of her tongue. She closed her eyes and covered her ears. "It didn't say all," she continued. She repeated the line again and again inside her head. _'…the way the eye stares'_.

George noticed Nick, her face was screwed up as if sucking on a lemon.

"EYE!" Nick's eyes opened so fast and her head jerked backwards in a flash.

A few pigeons that had been wondering around her feet panicked and flapped their wings in a great fluster trying to escape the commotion. A few pedestrians also stirred but then seemed to forget the interruption and carry on with themselves.

"UP!" Nick continued. "It said eye, not eyes! Nelson could only see from one eye!"

"Eye that's right," the Admiral chuckled from the top.

The three of them were ecstatic. They followed the statue round. The Admiral was facing down Whitehall towards Big Ben in the distance but his head turned slightly to the right. Nick's eyes shifted down the column until if fell on a lion; the one which had to be theirs. George let out a sigh of relief. Edie clapped her hands. Nick just stared at the lion wondering what to do next. She walked round so that she was right in front of it.

"I'd tell you what. Only a pretty foolish person would want to stand in front of a lion," she called back to them. She stood for a moment before saying; "I am a fool". Nothing.

Nick exhaled in disappointment. The lion didn't move, but it gave Nick an idea.

"Edie, come here."

Edie wandered over to be in the same position as Nick. George saw Nick whisper something into her ear which she nodded at. Edie took a stance and looked the beast straight at it whilst Nick scattered clear.

"I am a fool," Edie said sternly with as much nerve as she could muster.

George looked between Edie and the beast, then back again. There was a moments tension where nothing happened, but Edie felt a rumble. Small at first, building beneath her feet but growing as it refracted out. The lion's tail swished, even that light movement sent a shockwave through the air which Nick felt brush against her cheek. The front paws of the animal began to pat the ground, building strength inside its enormous legs. Edie began to tremor slightly. There was a waft of air as the animal raised itself on to all fours; it pushed itself towards the sky stretching its head to the heavens. George glanced around quickly, he found it impossible that no one else could be seeing this happen. All the tourists, just milling around oblivious. _How could they not see?_

The Last Lion looked down and saw the young girl who had awaken it from its long slumber. With one jump it leaped down from the base of the column to stroll besides her. The landing sent shockwaves through the ground almost knocking Edie off her feet. It encircled her as if seizing her up. George leant to race towards her but Nick held him back. The beast of the animal went back to facing Edie and it bent forwards, curving its front paw in towards its chest in a bow.

"Wow," Edie shrieked.

Nick looked behind her, fulfilling her constant need of awareness for knowing her surroundings. She wished she had eyes in the back of her head because she felt paranoid wherever she went.

And there was good reason to.

When she turned her eyes they immediately caught a fellow hoody wearer whose head was just reaching the end of a rotation to look at the floor as soon as Nick spotted the figure. It suggested the man- thing- whatever- had been looking her way. It wasn't the Walker, she was sure of it. Something wasn't right. She felt the breaths deepen in her chest and her heart start to pound.

The figure was leaning its back against a lamp post on the other side of the road, just before the grand curves of Admiralty Arch which lead into The Mall, standing side on to where Nick was. It was probably nothing but Nick couldn't help checking the figure out. It was tall and probably a man by how it was clothed in a pristine white hoody and loose fitting jeans. Nick let her hair fall in front of her face, brought her hood as far forward as it would reach, then tried to focus on being forgotten. She surveyed him out the corner of one eye, trying to make it seem like she hadn't noticed him there. She craned her neck to the side, trying to find any clue that the man might not be alone. Her eyes swerved back to the lamp post and she gasped when she realised the man had gone. Vanished. Or worse, was he still there?

"Guys, we're leaving," Nick called, striding quickly over to the lion. It spotted her approaching out of the corner of its eye. It blinked for a moment, working something out in its head, then let out a growl of rage. It bounded one paw forward in front of Edie, blocking her away from Nick in protection. Nick stopped and raised her palms in surrender.

"Woahhhh," Edie ran around the paw to face the lion and stuck her hand out. The lion backed down. "She's with us. She's a good guy".

The lion took another look then obeyed, lowering its head. Nick remained still but subsequently walked over to the animal and reached out a hand. She wanted to let it know she wasn't scared of it, if ever it did decide to attack. Her fingers made contact with the mane without any harsh reaction from it. She smiled and stroked down the long fur whilst hearing soft purring noises. Edie let out a strong gush of relief.

They had done it. They'd passed the first clue.

"We've got to go," declared Nick turning to George.

"What's wrong?" he replied.

"I thought I saw something."

"Haven't we been here before?"

Nick glared at George and he backed down his stance.

"Fine. Let's find the Gunner, maybe he's had some luck with the second verse," he said.

Another rumble caused them to look round, the lion had lay down again and Edie was already climbing onto the back of it.

"Come on! What you waiting for?" she laughed.

Nick grabbed George's hand and pulled him towards the lion. Nick drew herself up onto its back easily and seated at the front, creeping her eyes over the top of its mane back at the lamppost. There was still nothing to be seen. As George climbed and barely got a decent foothold the animal pounced forward. George clung on to Edie who was equally holding on to all the fur she could gather in her hands. The strong force of wind whipped her face, making it difficult to see as it ran back down Whitehall towards the embankment. The surroundings blurred together, whizzing past at incredible speeds. To any normal pedestrian, the sight of a lion chasing through the streets of a busy capital city with three teenagers straddled on its back would give them a big enough fright to put them in some kind of institution. Luckily, it was so impossible that their minds simply dismissed it.

The lion thundered down the street taking enormous strides and jumping unfeasible distances over cars to dodge the traffic build up. Nick rested her legs over the lion's shoulders and held on to the mane just behind the ears. The feeling of the wind flying through her hair as they shot past Big Ben at such speed was exhilarating. She forgot all her worries and let the moment of adrenaline take her over. She let out a whoop and the occasional 'yeeee-harrrr' as they flew across Westminster bridge.

"Nick!" George yelled. He was tense rigid, holding on with every fibre of his body. "I hope you know how to drive this thing!"


	29. Tune

"_Right colours are only as good as they're grown, _you say?"said Dictionary, scratching his head deep in thought.

"That was it." The Gunner rested his shoulders against the edge of the plinth.

Since leaving George, Edie and Nick at Hyde Park corner, the Gunner had first gone to St Dunstan's to find the Clocker and told him about everything he had missed out on. Together they had gone towards Aldwych to find Dictionary. The Clocker sat in the corner of the square, stroking Hodge on his lap who was purring at his touch.

"...too darn intellectual for my understanding I'm 'fraid though. Word play, an' all that," the Gunner shook his head and pondered.

"Well I'd say, something that could be grown, hmmm, an animal of some sort. A human. Or what of plants or food? What about an emotion?" Dictionary began to pace the ground. The thrill of solving the puzzle excited him.

The Gunner and the Clocker shared a small smile to each other knowing they were right on the money coming to see Dictionary.

"And colours..." the Gunner joined in. "Well it could be anythin' couldn't it? I mean, you've got your reds and your blues, yellow, green, purple, orange, black, white and bloody indigo!" He paused for a second, "light green, dark blue, speckled brown-"

"Orange you say?" said Dictionary intrigued.

"Hey wait a second. You can grow oranges can't ya?"

"Indeed."

"Well is that it?" sparked the Clocker, "Orange could mean anything."

Dictionary started pacing again, screwing his eyes shut with his fingers pointing hard on his temples. The Clocker watched him intently. Just like a clock, he could practically hear Dictionary's cogs ticking in his mind.

"_The sound is the place a Cityborne's home, _this is one I've been thinking over a lot. A cityborne? What exactly does that entail? Someone who's born in the city?" Dictionary continued.

"What, a cockney?" At the very mention something seemed to fit together in the Gunner's head.

"You know something?" asked Dictionary, noticing his expression change.

"Well, it was always said that a true cockney is one _born_ within earshot of the Bow Bells."

"Why Gunner, that is quite brilliant."

"Is it?" he asked, a smirk creeping on his face while he straightened his helmet with pride.

"Why St Mary-le-Bow. Oh of course. _I do not know, says the great bell of Bow,_" Dictionary chuckled to himself.

"I recognise that," the Gunner said startled, repeating the words in his head into some sort of rhythm.

"From the great song _Oranges and Lemons_, we get those lyrics epitomised by St Mary-le-Bow church. That's the clue, Gunner. That's where you have to go and once you're there, you can pursue that gem light- whatever that means."

"Ha!" the Clocker laughed, "That was easy. Of sorts. Too easy I fear."

The Gunner was too chuffed with himself to notice the Clocker's intrepidation. He straightened up and held out a hand which Dictionary shook firmly.

"We got there in the end, eh?" the Gunner laughed.

"I never doubted it," Dictionary replied. "I would have stuck to it until the solution was laid bare infront of us. I would give anthing to help George and Edie."

"We know. You showed your hand against those dragons very honourably during the battle. What happened to you was a stark shame and I regret then- as I do now- that our long broil with the taints had to come to such calamity. I owe you a lot for the safeguarding of George's life."

"Commendable," the Clocker nodded in agreement. "A more than noble sacrifise."

"Pshftt. Your words are bounteous yet embellished," snirked Dictionary. "It was mere puppy bravery. Sacrifise is vastly more than a lean feet of protection. It is to renounce everything that your heart holds dear and whether cause or consequence of such actions be right or wrong, our own reckonning of reason is pure by nature. My actions were propelled by the security and unfounded sense of invulnerability by the turn of day renewal, and was nothing more than right custodianship- something any decent spit would do for a Master Maker- just as yourself, Gunner, have done a number of times. A few facial scars carried through by a cantankerous taint should not be approved by such a high gesture, regardless of the gratification I feel from your accolades."

"You talk with such accredited modesty my friend. A trait I hold much respect for, for you know as well as I that during the reign of the Ice Murk us spits didn't know if turn o'day would ever pass again. Gave us all a reality check."

"Doubtlessly," said the Clocker, remembering of how his curse had been put on hold during that time, and how for a short while he'd become normal again.

There was a moment when all three of them reminisced and felt like nobody should say anything. After a little while, the Gunner thought it was time to move on again. The Clocker stood up quickly, forgetting about Hodge on his lap who fell to the floor uneasily and hissed.

"Gunner. Reckon you should find kids. Me, I'll stay. Go over remainder clues with Dictionary."

"Sure. Yes. I'll find them. Thanks again," the Gunner replied turning to shake Dictionary's hand once more.

"Always a pleasure, Gunner," said Dictionary.

The Gunner thought that if he hurried, he might be able to do whatever they needed before sundown. With a final farewell he set off round the corner in a jog, humming the tune in his head once more.


	30. Animal

They rode across the river and passed the emblazonment of the South Bank Lion on its plinth which offered a humble curtsy in their presence. The Last Lion then jumped violently down the flight of stairs towards the embankment, soaring above many unsuspecting pedestrians, and finally stopped at the end of Millennium Pier. George got off swaying and feeling a little travel sick. The constant movement of the pier floor beneath him did not help. The lion leant over the side and its long tongue swept at the water taking in huge mouthfuls. It glanced up briefly to growl at the sight of a big yellow duck travelling across the water.

"I guess it was just thirsty," Edie laughed.

"Let's hope London doesn't flood then," said Nick.

"What?"

"Oh, it's just a saying," Nick replied, turning and pointing her finger to the side of the embankment where an unmoving lion head carving was holding a mooring ring in its mouth.

George did not share her amusement.

When the animal had finished it stood to attention and made jerking movements with its head to signal it was time to climb back on. George reluctantly agreed. The race began again as the lion crossed Waterloo bridge and continued down the Strand.

The Gunner hadn't soon left Dictionary and the Clocker before the ground started to shake. He tensed and saw the sight off a huge beast tearing between cars and taxis like a bazooka. He pulled out the revolver from his trench coat pocket and held it high, eyes staring straight down the barrel. The lion instantly spotted him and stopped, but the speed at which it was travelling meant that it skidded a long way before slowing, claws digging into the floor and making a screeching sound that cut into the air. George would have covered his ears if he wasn't concentrating so hard on holding on. The Gunner took aim but then noticed a small girl's head pop above the ears of the animal.

"Gunner! It's us," Nick shouted.

The Gunner blinked, slowly lowered his gun and approached with caution.

"Blimey. You've been busy."

"The first verse of the riddle," said Edie, sliding down the side on the lion to the floor. "The forth plinth, Trafalgar Square."

"So the lions _are_ alive. Well that one at least. By-gum." The Gunner patted the nose of the lion. Its whole body was rising and falling as it breathed heavily. "Me and Dickie had a bit of a break-through too actually. The second verse... it's on about St Mary-le-bow. That's where we have to go and hopefully it will lead on to the third verse."

"That's great!" Edie said loudly.

"No time to lose," said the Gunner, already joining them on the back of the lion which had just enough room left for another passenger.

Nick was about to usher it forward when her eyes were attracted to a still figure in front. The man with the white hoody was leaning against a tree by the split in the road.

"No," she whispered.

"Nick?" said Edie.

Nick knew it was the same person she'd seen at Trafalgar Square. It had followed them. Impossible. Her mind went wild. The lion had been too quick. _What was going on?_ She decided to find out. She slid down the side of the lion and started walking towards the man, but then the Gunner shouted...

"Nick!"

There was a violent screech then a blazing horn as Nick stepped off the curb into the path of a moving car which screeched to a halt. She jumped a metre in the air then turned to face the man behind the steering wheel of the posh black Mercedes. His round cheeks were red with rage as he fluffed wild gesticulations with his hands flying through the air, shouting words Nick couldn't hear but could clearly lip read and piece them together by the state he was in. Her eyes flicked over to the passenger seat and a small woman was bolt tense in the seat; her hand white from grasping onto the holdall above her. Her face matched that colour and she looked like she was going to puke all over the fine furnish of the polished dashboard.

Instead of moving away, Nick just stood there and remained still, eyes fixed on them with an intensity that was hard to keep up. The man slowed like an anchor hitting the sea bed. He breathed heavily, his temper subdued and his face creased up to a slacked thought which dwindled away in the air. He looked to his wife, equally stumped with her own thoughts, both feeling like they'd just come back from being sedated. The man looked back forward but Nick could see from his eyes that he was looking behind her- through her- not even noticing her. He looked confused as if his brain knew what he should be seeing but for some unknown reason, wasn't being allowed to by his eyes. He turned back to his wife and said something which caused her to start up an argument. All of their heightened emotion and anger which had been built up for Nick was now being flared between themselves. Nick smirked as the long pile up of cars behind started to trumpet their horns and the man in the Mercedes fumbled to get the gearstick into the right position and pull away.

"Abracadabra," Nick said under her breath, sidestepping the car as the clutch grinded and it sped off.

It was that easy.

The couple's last hope would be to see a young woman stepping out in front of their car, which was why their minds' were so willing to forget her that easily- unlike the drunk men the night before, who were looking to pick a fight on someone and Nick was the only option. Their minds were so intoxicated that their brains weren't up for logical thinking, and so wouldn't dismiss the sight of her because they were ready to believe anything. That was until their concentration waved away and they simply didn't care anymore. She relaxed in this little victory but still knew it had taken effort, and knew she would have to perfect her skills if she wanted to be anywhere near as good as the Walker. She turned back to see the man in the hoody still waiting.

"What the heck just happened?" George said startled, still on the lion.

"Beats me," said Edie.

"She's savvy I'll give her that, but trouble. Full of surprises and not all of them good," blasted the Gunner.

When Nick took another pace forward the hoody man casually turned his back and walked into a side street, picking up pace as he rounded the corner.

"Stop!" Nick called after him.

She broke into a run. She reached the mouth of the side street and gasped as a stone pterodactyl flew out at her. Falling onto her back, she shielded her eyes as a loud flush of air skimmed over her head, accompanied with a piercing reptilian shriek. She rolled onto her front and saw the bird lift into the air with the man in the white hoody straddling its back.

"After it!" Nick screamed.

Nick kicked into action, pulled herself to her feet and raced back to the lion. George was flung back and hit into the Gunner as the lion jolted forward. It ran to meet Nick, and with quick agility she timed her footing right to land on one of the lion's paws as it paced forward. Letting the momentum carry her forward, she jumped and managed to grab part of the lion's mane at the back and swung her leg around to straddle it, losing almost no time as they pursued the unknown figure of importance. It was such a nimble move that Nick was surprised that it had worked so gracefully. But all the while her face never let on the shocked disbelief she was feeling. Everyone was impressed with the manoeuvre but they were too busy holding on for dear life to show it.

The pterodactyl taint was far larger than any Nick had ever seen before. It's twenty foot wingspan sucked the air under and lifted it high above the row of buildings opposite, disappearing from sight. The lion stepped on the gas and ran heading for the river.

"Who is it?" Nick heard the Gunner shout over the sound of wind rushing in their faces. His hat flew off his head but stayed around his neck, the chinstrap tugging on his Adam's apple. With one hand holding onto the lion, his other tried to keep George and Edie stabilised.

"I think it's a servant," Nick tried to call back. "We've got to stop it. If it gets to the Stone-"

Nick looked to the skies, hoping the prehistoric beast would come back into view. The skies opened up when they reached the river. Luckily they spotted it heading away from the Stone, diagonally over the Thames towards the OXO tower. Nick saw the hooded man look back at them but he was too far away for his face to be seen. The lion made a quick decision and stayed sideways on the north embankment. It soon reached a heavily traffic ridden Blackfriars and as they approched, George had the sickening feeling that he knew what would happen next.

Sure enough, when they reached the foot of the bridge the lion jumped the span of two buses, surging all their stomachs into their throats. They landed on the first ornate red column of the Old Blackfriars Railway bridge, the impossible bridge that George remembered all too well from his duel with the Last Knight. The lion didn't stop and bludgeoned on with pace. Its feet hit the air between columns and yet they didn't fall. Gravity ceased. Edie dared to lean over to take a look and whimpered as she saw the cold, dark waters of the Thames thrashing below. Nick looked to her left and realised with startling effect that they were outrunning a train on the new bridge.

As they were approaching the last column the pterodactyl swung low amid the traffic of the street. It swooped and swerved with quick and ready prowess. The lion jumped back onto the street and gained distance. Its paws moved so fast that they only tickled the ground underneath. It was the predator of the chase; the assailant expulsing a coup de force not to be messed with. Nick saw the hooded man turn to them once again and kick the bird underneath to propel it forward.

"Gunner, your gun!" Nick held her wobbly hand out across Edie to him.

The Gunner was in no right mind to let Nick have his gun. He looked up the street but the sun glare of car back windows was making it difficult to see clearly, only a dark silhouette of the taint appeared every time the sun got hidden behind a building. He wobbled unsteadily on the back of the lion; holding onto George with one hand, and a more strained grip onto Edie in front with the other. He tried to estimate the distance and angle the bullet would need to go, but the pace they were going was making him queasy and disorientated. Trying to find his balance he had a split mind and hesitated.

"Come on!" Nick shouted, "We can't let him get away."

"You ever fired a gun before?" the Gunner questioned, feeling it was a stupid question to ask but wanting to make sure all the same.

"No, I've just spent the last three hundred years eating blueberry muffins and singing Kum-ba-ya."

The Gunner rolled his eyes, snatched his revolver out of his trench coat and aimed it at the back of the hooded man. With all the movement of the lion below, his hand splayed about and couldn't get a firm fix. He tried to steady it with his other hand but the hand went straight back to the lion, needing to hold on with everything he could muster.

"Give it me!" Nick screamed.

The Gunner gave over and handed the gun to Edie who passed it to Nick. Nick clutched it sharp and aimed the barrel forward. The bird was tilting and performing all sorts of moves to get around the traffic and obscure its view from the lion.

"Heads!"

The Gunner only heard Nick's warning as a blur of noise, then saw her grabbing Edie's top and pulling her down. He spotted the signpost coming towards him with sickening speed and ducked down low and to the side. He felt it whoosh and graze against his shoulder. George had also thrown himself to the left, but with the lion suddenly pouncing hard right to dodge a cyclist the force against him forced him off balance and he slid down the side of the lion's belly.

"George!"

The Gunner managed to snatch hold of George's wrist as he fell, almost throwing him over as well. George banged into the side of the lion; a weird sensation of the fur buffeting against his skin like a freshly washed towel, thrown in with a hard, cold slap in the face as the fur was actually cold bronze and the response he was feeling was actually pain. He yelped and tried to wrap his legs around the lion's leg whilst feeling his arm slipping out of the Gunner's grasp.

"Hold on!" the Gunner yelled.

The lion continued running regardless, dodging between double-deckers and jumping over lines of pedestrians crossing the roads at lights. Every landing almost pulled George's shoulder out of its socket and he shouted through the pain. The wind battered down on the riders, the street blurring either side. The pterodactyl was just ahead, weaving its way through the tangled street.

"Stop the lion!" said Edie to Nick, who was concentrating on aiming the barrel of the gun forward. Her eyes darted to George and back.

"We can't," Nick replied. "We'll lose it."

"We'll lose George if we don't!"

"Edie!"

"If you don't then I will."

Suddenly their vision went hay-wire as a bright snap-shut light dazzled them all. Nick opened her eyes and saw crystals instead of shapes. The white pixilated film replacing her vision like a thick fog died down and came back with startling focus as she saw Edie falling sideways. Nick grabbed onto her at arm's length and pulled her back to balance. Edie looked behind and saw the yellow square box of a speed camera shrinking in the distance.

"Help!" cried George.

He had lost his footing and had started to twist to the side, hanging by a thread in the Gunner's now sweaty palm.

Nick looked around briefly and thought she saw something like a white unicorn behind a glass screen. She let out an angry furor. She didn't know whether she could stop the lion even if she tried but knew that a Key would have the control. She hoped Edie would not come to that decision as it was imperative that they didn't lose the taint. Nick span aiming forward and pulled the trigger. The gun buckled in her hand and forced the butt of it backwards, hitting into her sternum. She wheezed as the wind was knocked out of her and she grabbed onto the lion to balance herself. She didn't know if the shot had been anywhere close to the reptile bird, which suddenly lurched upwards out of the traffic. The lion galloped off the main street. It roared through its exertions and they could all feel the massive rise and drop of its chest against its sturdy great muscles. Edie laid down sideways across the lion on her belly, hanging her arms down towards George and her legs the other side to balance her out. She managed to take hold under his arm but knew she didn't have the strength to pull him back over.

The pterodactyl made a sharp turn left and soared high out of range of the revolver. Nick swore and looked around, trying to refocus the lost blurs of their surroundings, looking for a pin point to mark their location. Then she heard a warning bell start to ring and felt the lion pick up pace.

"Oh no," she chocked.

The buildings on her left cleared and Nick saw one of the turrets of Tower Bridge. A line of traffic had started to snake back to the junction they were approaching. The lion reached it and turned square to the tower.

"No no no," Nick's voice fluttered.

She pushed her self backwards and put an arm around Edie's lower back, hoping to give her more control. Edie looked to the side and saw the semi-circular cavern underneath the first arch of the beginning of the bridge. The siren blazed louder, shattering the air as they approached and then it suddenly cut off.

"Oh my God," said Edie.

The bridge started rising.

"Come on!" yelled the Gunner, pulling sharp with all his force. George inched higher up the lion's leg and managed to get a foot hold where his leg dug into the junction of the lion's hip. He heard the lion growl but took the moment to push harder, leveraging himself up as the Gunner pulled back. He scrambled up and fell into the Gunner's arms, breathing heavily and starting to laugh manically through his fear.

"No time to cool off yet, Kiddo," warned the Gunner with a finger point ahead.

George looked forward and his smile froze. He saw the white lines of the road angling upwards, knowing that within a few moments they would become vertical white lines and with the speed they were going, well…it wouldn't be very pretty. However before that there was a blue gate guarding their way. The lion's eyes were set on the bird, flying under the first tunnel of the turret.

"We're not going to make it," said Edie to the back of Nick's head.

Nick's eyes were set too wide and aimed forward to look back. She was overcome with a thrilling adrenaline through her body. Her heartbeat matched the rhythm of the lion's paws striking the ground as they went under the arch and jumped clean over the blue barrier gate at the start of the bridge. The fear within her was sickening but at the same time exhilarating. But all the same she felt her self loosing control and knowing there was nothing she could do about it. The others shut up in their own tangles of panic.

They passed under the first turret and reached the sloping road. The lion's claws slid underneath but made progress. Even the slightest reduction in speed was still like being strapped to a rocket. They just hoped it would not go bang at the end of it. The edge of the bridge was only a few meters away and they saw the sky beyond it.

"Hold on!" Nick managed to shout, not like it needed saying. It's all they could do as the determined lion prepared its final steps before take off.

Nick knew the bridge well; remembered it being built and had seen it open and close so many times, but it had never had such a cause for holding her complete attention. Against all her good will she tried to stop her mind making calculations in her head. The speed they were going. The angle of the bridge. The gap between sides. The distance to the water.

She thought about it anyway.

In the last second Nick thought the lion wouldn't make it to the top; she felt its limbs shudder under the pressure, felt its claws slide back. But then the lion curled it paw around the top edge and pushed off its hind legs.

They flew.

For a moment the passengers were just pendants dangling in the mercy of physics. Nick saw the tilt of the other side approaching but it seemed too far away. She turned her head not wanting to watch and saw the starling white metal pole of a ships mast closing in to the side. She closed her eyes. Time withheld the answer. Through the blackness behind her eyelids she felt a jarred impact, a screech of careening stumbling and slipping and then the reeling lurch of forces pulling her again. Her eyes shot open and the lion had reared up, sliding down the opposite side of the bridge and then as soon as it found its footing had started running again.

Nick's mind swished with the blue blurs of the suspension chains either side as they reached the end. She heard George laugh and felt Edie slap her back. The shock of it all was still reeling in Nick's mind until a shadow passed across the sun and she looked up to see the pterodactyl above. It folded its wings to its chest and dived suddenly, plucked out of the sky as it swooped and jeered in a large scoop of the air, coming within inches to the lion with a furious clack of its spear beak. Nick bided her time, rested her arms on the top of the lions head, waiting for a show of weakness. The bird waited one second too long to tilt. Its wing clipped the side of an overhanging tree which rocked the leverage of the bird's balance from side to side. It steadied up, giving itself a second to gather its position.

BLAM BLAM.

The first shot missed the man but hit the birds foot. It squawked with alarm and pain and rocked an unsteady flight approaching the ground. The second bullet hit the servant just below the outer shoulder blade. He screamed and collapsed forward and found his legs slipping away behind him. The bird angled its legs forward towards a land but its hurt foot crippled under its weight and flexed too suddenly. It went over on one side, careering the bird to roll over with its own propulsion as it stumbled across the ground, sliding to a halt in the middle of a crossroads. The servant was flung over the top and landed in a jumble, thrown like a matchstick man over and over again until slamming into a red phone box. A man holding a small child by the hand walked past only feet away. But they didn't stop to help. They didn't even see.

The servant convulsed and wheezed violently like a lung had been punctured. His head slugged to the floor and he prized himself away from the metal. Within a moment he pulled his hood back over his head and hobbled to the corner, one arm held tight around his waist until his breathing improved. Nick aimed and fired the gun but her heart stopped when it clicked with no ammo. The man saw the lion approaching and smiled before disappearing into the next street.

The lion came to a screeching halt, its claws grating down the ground like it was a giant chalkboard. It stood panting, staring down the street. It wasn't as busy as the street they had come off and so it was easy to tell that the hooded man had vanished.

"NO!" growled Nick.

She slid down the lion's side and fell awkwardly on her ankle as she landed. She yelped but ignored the seething pain shooting up her back from her heels. Storming a few paces forward, she let out a wail of tortured anger and span round savagely and saw the pterodactyl flapping its damaged wing, only just managing to rise above moving cars and hold its flight. Nick clicked the gun again, forgetting it was empty but nevertheless clicked it a further three times. She punched the air and stomped on the ground, lungs heaving with a blunt force of knowledge. _That may have ended everything_. She sourly watched the taint fly over the building and disappear.

"What are we going to do now?" said Edie miserably.

"I can't believe he got away!" stormed Nick.

"Nick, what now?" Edie asked again.

"I don't know!" Nick screamed, slashing her arm through the air with spread fingers. She then brought them to cover her face as she breathed in deeply. "That could be it. Our one chance, ruined. If he gets to the Stone then its caput. Bye bye. I'm dead."

"It's going to be alright."

"When is it ever alright! When does anything _ever_ go the way we want it to?"

"Come on, pull yourself together," said the Gunner, also sliding down to the floor. "We're lucky we even survived that stupid stunt with the bridge. Just because you and me have a get out clause of death it doesn't mean you can put the young'uns' lives at risk too. What were you thinking?"

"Me? It was the lion!" Nick yelled.

"You were at the helm."

"It doesn't exactly have a break pedal or a steering wheel."

"This is ridiculous," said George. "Look. We tried our best and even though things didn't exactly work out, at least we're still alive. Maybe we'll all look back on this and laugh sometime, but now we need to stop fighting and move on. We may still have a chance if we're fast and not moping about in our own hopelessness. We need to get to Mary-le-Bow quick-style, before anyone else sees us."

"Who only puts three bullets in a gun?" Nick huffed, tossing the Gunner the empty piece of weaponry like it was a wet rag.

"Nick, are you even listening to me?" said George.

"It's a safety precaution," the Gunner besmirched.

"Oh well that's OK, we're so safe now, aren't we?" Nick mocked.

"Shut up Nick, the way you were flailing it about I'm surprised you didn't end up with a bullet in you own chest. If you'd let me shoot I could have had him in one."

"Is that right?"

"We don't have time to argue," huffed George, knowing his words were falling on deaf ears.

"We would've had time if she hadn't stolen the mirrors," the Gunner grumbled with a low tone in the back of his throat, but the touch of scorn was clear.

Nick marched towards him but Edie quickly jumped off the lion and stood between them.

"Knock it off you two!" she yelled. "Come on, this is pathetic. We have to get to Mary-le-Bow. Let's move it. On the lion. NOW."

Nick bit her tongue and gritted. The Gunner sucked his teeth. Both of them held a steely look at the other. But they both agreed that there was no time to lose and arguing between each other would just make matters worse. Nick got back on the lion which knew exactly where to go. It even made sure they avoided Cannon Street as they travelled to the church.


	31. Energy

In the churchyard next to St Mary-le-Bow laid a plinth for Captain John Smith, the founder of Virginia. He stood proud, his stance in victory like he was claiming the very ground beneath his feet. His shoes, which were similar to the Gunner's, flared out wildly at the top. A long, valiant sword lay strapped to the side of his waist in a sheath. A book was held self-righteously in his hand. His cape rested over his shoulders down toward his burly pantaloons. His bushy beard and moustache gave him the look of a hero traveller.

The lion bounded down Bow Lane, whizzed past traffic and came to a flying halt just outside the boundaries of the churchyard. George was nearly flung off it as the sharp deceleration took effect. Edie's hair looked painfully knotted and she muttered something about needing to buy a bobble.

"Like riding a Hawker Typhoon," the Gunner grinned, patting the side of the lion as everyone slid to the floor.

"So… have you got anymore bullets?" asked George warily.

"Yeah, in my pocket," the Gunner grimly replied.

He saw Nick slap her palm into her forehead. He sent her a dirty look as he pulled them out and reloaded. All barrels filled.

The lion's eyes shifted down the street, darting through the pedestrians, always on defence, ready to attack.

"Always on the lookout ain't he? Ha. Wanna tell you're kitten he can take a break, Edie?" the Gunner said and sniggered. "Or a KitKat."

"You think this is funny?" said Nick.

"Well it's a damn sight better than panicking about it," said the Gunner.

"We need to keep alert. There may be other servants out there."

"You think he noticed you?" said George.

"If it was a servant I visited on my travels then probably. I tried to stay hidden but I was a little side-tracked to say the least. But it could just be that the sheltered life I have led will end up keeping me in a bubble of obscurity."

"And what about us?" said Edie.

Nick's pause gave her the answer she'd dreaded.

"The knowledge of the Last Lion roaming around London will give the Stone all it needs to know; that there are people with an understanding of the riddle present." Nick wanted to say '_And that a Key is present,' _but thought it best not to let the Gunner think she'd been hiding things_._ "You're involvement in this unLondon during the last week will make things suspicious and the likelihood of that is, all fingers will point towards you."

Edie frowned.

"It's gonna be alright, Doll, you've got us," said the Gunner.

"Thanks," replied Edie. "Well…suppose there's nothing left for it."

"Everything or nothing, right?" said Nick. "Come on, let's do this."

They walked along the sidewalk past the churchyard, spotting Smith.

"Wonder if he can give us any help? He must know the area well," George said, nodding towards the spit.

The Gunner looked at it then shook his head.

"Afraid not George, my lad. What stands there is the purest of bronze. He's a non-walker you see," he replied in hushed tones as if not wanting to talk ill of the dead.

George remembered what he had been told about non-walkers. Dead statues. Casualties of earlier wars.

"Yep, old Smithy had too much of an adventure one day. Missed his plinth come turn o'day," the Gunner expressed in a heavy sigh.

"Oh," was the only word George could say before moving on towards the door.

Nick stood and rested. Her eyes remained on the statue as if she had a plan in mind.

"I could help," she muttered.

The Gunner turned around to face her looking intrigued.

"How d'you mean?" he questioned while shifting his position uneasily. Nick walked over to the statue but didn't answer him. "What, you ain't talking to me now, is that it?"

"By changing the C'hi," Nick said to no one in particular, avoiding the Gunner's eyes.

"You what now, luv?"

Nick looked at him like he was a fool.

"C'hi is a Chinese word. It's to do with energy, the life force that runs through everything. I can engineer C'hi energy fields and radiate them to- well- essentially; bring life."

"Woah, wait. Hold your dogs there, girl. You're saying that you can bring Smith here back to life?" The Gunner stared in shock and hazardous awe. His voice carried a shadow of sarcasm which Nick picked up on.

George stood in stunned silence.

"Well actually, yes," Nick sneered back a little more stuck-up then she'd liked. "Technically. And my name's not Girl."

"Technically?" the Gunner parroted with a raised eyebrow.

"Do you want me to explain or not?" she snapped.

"Go on then, Wonder Woman. Explain this little trick of yours."

"You don't believe me?"

"I'm not saying anything."

"I brought the Walker back from stone, didn't I!" she yelled and grabbed the Gunner by his lapels, bringing him down to eye level.

The Gunner shut up as she glared at him. He returned the look.

"Yes. You did," he replied in a slow manner through narrowed eyes.

A look which shamed her.

"Christ! Knock it off," shouted George, breaking them apart. "This is the last thing we need. I'm sick of it. If we can't stay together then we've got no chance. Nick, we're all listening, please tell us."

"What I can do is a gift given by the Stone who- when the day comes- will want me to make an uprising of taints, give them a proper life form."

"Wait, you mean life as in proper life, not Gunner type of life?"

"Oi!" said the Gunner.

"You know what I mean," said George with a sympathetic voice. "Human."

"Well it's hard to explain," Nick thought about it hard. "It works on a series of levels. I manipulate them."

"Manipulate. Got'cha. Now I know she's telling the truth," said the Gunner. Nick bit her tongue with pent fury. She turned around and started to walk away. "Hold up. Where's she off to?" the Gunner said, surprised.

Nick turned on her heel and walked straight back up to the Gunner. He towered above her but her glare made him feel very small.

"Listen you piece of-" Nick started.

"Leave it," yelled Edie, sticking a hand out between the pair.

Nick pushed her out the way.

"Hey!" said George, catching Edie as she stumbled.

"Dirt," Nick finally got out, although she'd planned on using a word much stronger and derogative for a spit. "I'm trying to help you. Or is that not getting into that solid head of yours? I don't care. I've had it. I'm done." She then walked away again.

"Nick wait," Edie ran after her. Nick finally slowed and stopped a good distance away from the Gunner. Edie turned her back on the others and whispered to Nick. "You can't leave me now. I don't know what to do. The riddle. We need you. I need you. The Gunner's just messing, you know that."

Nick took a deep breath and scratched her head. She looked into Edie's eyes and couldn't fight them. After a long pause she walked back looking dull and bored.

"Well. That was… dramatic," said the Gunner. "Don't worry grumpy, I accept your apology."

"_My_ apology?" said Nick with amazement.

"You're welcome."

"You're such a-a-jackass."

"You're words are like poetry."

"EVERYONE JUST SHUT UP!" screamed George.

Both Nick and the Gunner jumped at the sudden outburst and looked at him with open mouths. They looked back to each other and couldn't resist smirking.

"Who's the grumpy one now?" said Nick.

"Yeah," laughed the Gunner.

George's eyes flicked between the pair and noticed this brief exchange was enough to lay down their differences for a moment, in the way two very stubborn people only could.

"So about C'hi, you were saying…" George continued, then winked at Edie and she contained a smile.

"Ah yes," said Nick in a bored sigh. "Touch Smith now, he's a spit again. Touch him again and he's human… I think."

"You think? That fills me with hope. And what happens after that?" said the Gunner with a huff of disbelief.

Nick sent him a look which chilled his bones, or presumably, the feeling of what chilled bones would feel like, if he had any. But all the same, he felt the edges of the Earth close in on him. She waited for his thoughts to go a bit crazy before she decided to reply.

"I doubt my power extends beyond that point…but it's a thought…"

Everyone now seemed to feel a bite of cold, even though the sun was shining brightly. Her delivery was scary and threatening and the new glow in her dark eyes made them deeply uncomfortable.

"You can reverse it thought, right?" said Edie, with a rushed thought entering her head and making her sound all panicky. "I take it these new living taints wouldn't need to go back to their plinths at all, so what if one day the ordinary people notice they're suddenly gone? What if it opens their eyes' and crashes both worlds into one?"

"Hey now…" the Gunner stepped in, "that wouldn't happen. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, we've got enough problems happening. Tell her you can reverse it, Nick."

"I can reverse it," Nick said with quite possibly the most deadpan face he'd ever seen.

"An army of living taints? No offense, but that doesn't sound like a 'gift'," said a gob-smacked George.

Nick cleared her throat and shifted position, giving a moment to gather herself.

"Well, no. It's not. It's wrong. I shouldn't do it," she paused for a moment. "Let me reiterate though. I can't bring back the deceased. Smith is technically still here. He's not dead because he's a spit. Theoretically spits aren't even alive, but that doesn't stop you moving around, does it Gunner? So in theory he can't die either. His life force is just trapped somewhere within him. What I do is bring it back to the surface. I need to make this very clear though, what I do is _not_ resurrection. Nothing can bring back the dead."

Nick was talking so sternly that it was almost like she was trying to intimidate them. Or warn them. They never could tell with Nick.

"Why did the Stone give _you _the power? Surely it has a load of other servants it could give it to who are more loyal?"

"Well…that's err…" Nick knew why. Even without being able to use Key powers, it was still in her genes. It was underlying her very being and the sort of power needed for such an ability could only be taken on by someone of that stature. It wasn't something any Tom, Dick or Harry could master. That, and the reason the Stone wanted Nick to suffer. The person with the greatest chance of success overcoming it becoming the very thing that led to her downfall and its rise to power. To be the contributor to her nemesis' achievement. The Stone wanted to gloat. But of course, Nick couldn't tell them that, because then she would have to explain about Keys and break her oath with Edie.

"That's just how things played out."

"How many times have you already done this?" Edie said with accusing eyes. Nick's delayed response and south pointing eyes gave nothing but the worst of news.

"Okayyy," the Gunner said with raised eyebrows, trying to lift off some of the tension that had been created. "Let's see what ya got."

Nick walked through the entrance of the churchyard, to the tall plinth. She reached out her hand upwards so it was almost in contact with Smith's shoes. She closed her eyes, trying to develop and expand all the thoughts and emotions inside her and reunite it, make it as one. Make it a whole. She needed all the fibres and elements to send this across, the very essence of her soul needed to feel the energy. She concentrated and touched the bronze.

It pained her to do this. A pain she could feel right at the very centre of her.

It was something that changed and then didn't feel right anymore. Something she thought was burning up, part of her soul being the fuel that was needed to summon the energy through her. She wondered about how much soul she had left. Maybe that's how the Stone would corrupt her. She was creating the gap it could easily fill with its evil.

Nevertheless, when she opened her eyes she saw that the flared boots were moving and it made her feel better. She looked up and saw smiling lips which were almost covered by the great, bushy beard. Smith had new fire inside him. He was awake. He was a spit again. And he felt alive.

"Good show! How are we this fine afternoon?" he beamed down at her.

The Gunner's mouth dropped but no sound came. Smith unsheathed his great sword and held it aloft, catching the sun's reflection on its razor edge. He smiled then jumped down off his plinth with elegance. Nick smiled back, a smile which faltered, thinned out and left when Smith turned away. She felt dizzy like she was missing something.

"The question is: how are you?" the Gunner puffed out his cheeks with shocked amusement.

"Never been better," Smith nodded, then his smile turned around and his eyes became glazed with confusion. "Actually, come to think of it, the last thing I remember was at the Greenwich clash, I was all gun-ho with jostling and fisticuffs, and then…I was running. Ah," he nodded again and came to his senses.

"It was a shame," sighed the Gunner, removing his helmet.

"Who are you?" Smith turned to Nick and seemed to put the pieces together that she'd been the one to bring him back.

"I'm-" Nick floundered.

"She's is of a- should we say- independent party. Someone whom we share a mutual goal together," the Gunner interrupted.

"Er…oh," said Smith. "I only really meant: what's her name?"

The Gunner hung his head, knowing he'd just thrown down a conspicuous web which need not be there in the first place. The last thing he wanted to do was raise suspicions.

"I'm-" Nick repeated.

"Ashleine," said the Gunner quickly. "Her name's Ashleine."

Nick left her mouth open with the frustration of being cut off again. She looked at the Gunner who briefly caught her eye then looked away again. Nick didn't say anything.

"So then, Ashleine," said Smith and bowed. "I'm not sure what you did then but I am thankful. What brings you here?"

"We're on a quest. An adventure," said the Gunner.

If Nick was a ventriloquist, she was doing a good job of letting the Gunner speak instead of her. She sent him scolding eyes. The Gunner knew these words would appeal to Smith and the traveller did indeed perk up.

"A quest you say. Well name anything I can do to help and I will relish at the challenge."

"Do you know of the Book of the City?" Nick finally snapped out before the Gunner could open his mouth again.

Smith's face turned more serious and wary.

"Well well well, that's an object my ears haven't heard speak of for quite some time. And that's not just because I've been dead. I've heard of it, but then again lots of spits have. It's in all areas of folk law history if you look hard enough for it."

"Well," Nick blurted.

"Well what?" Smith asked.

"Well," Nick repeated. Her eyes had been cloudy before but now they were getting that dangerous sparkle to them again. A sign that kept the rest of them on edge.

"What, Nick?" said Edie.

"Well," Nick said for a third time. This time she broke into a devilish smile.

"I feel we're stuck in a time loop," said the Gunner.

Nick snapped out of it.

"You said the Book was in history," said Nick, trying to test the water. "What about the present?"

Smith gave her a wayward look.

"Whether the book is- or was ever- real remains a mystery to me," he said.

The chirpy nature of Smith had all but left him, and Nick had talked with enough liars in her life to get pretty good at outsmarting the bad ones.

"Where is the holy well?" Nick announced suddenly.

"What?" said Smith, stunned.

"I know there's one here, so don't lie to me."

"Nick, what are you talking about?" said George.

"Holy wells," said the Gunner, "are sacred springs that hold great power. They are rare in London, but not nonexistent. However, I have never heard of one being located here."

"That's because there isn't one here," said Smith with a strong stance. But his curiosity peaked and got the better of him."Lets say if- hypothetically- there was a holy well here. What would you be wanting with it?"

"Thats none of your concern," said Nick.

"I believe it is. It is my duty after all."

"So there is a well?" Nick said quickly with wide eyes.

"I..." Smith stuttered. "I- err- that's none of you're- blast."

"You're not very good at you're duty, are you?" Nick smiled in a way which displeased him. He muttered something under his breath.

The Gunner stepped up behind Nick.

"I think you should go back to the person who taught you how to make friends and get a refund," he said.

"It's not my job to make friends," Nick rounded.

"I'm sure the Walker would agree with you," the Gunner whispered, out of earshot from Smith.

"Why bring him into this?"

"Because you reminded me of him just then."

Nick glowered and got back to the point. She turned back to Smith.

"I have it on authority that there is a holy well somewhere in the vacinity of this parish."

"If I may be as boldest to try again," said Smith. "What would you be wanted with such a sacred thing?"

"I believe what lies beneath it holds great power."

"And you think you could get at that power, do you?"

"Yes."

"It sounds like you've already made your mind up. As it is, I am aware of the well. Very few know about it. Even some of the people who have worshipped here for years are not aware of its existence. Come, I will take you to it. But be aware, the forces you will be dealing with are very strong. I am not a guard of it but rather, a guard from it. I hope you know what you are doing because it would be unwise to try and control it with nothing more than a hunch."

"We need to try."

She held her gaze with him until the faintest of smiles began at one side of his mouth.

"Well that's what I like to see," he said. "Fellow explorers."


	32. Old

Smith took them to the foot of the church. Just like a lot similar in London these days they seemed very cramped and out of place sat next to modern day buildings which often lacked personality or beauty. Nick looked at the white washed walls and ran her eyes all the way to the top of the bell tower. The church that always fought back. It had had a very rocky history; once destroyed in the Great Fire and again during the Blitz. Nick sympathised with it, she had somehow managed to live through them too.

They entered by the West door. Two cherubs sat above them giggling as they stepped in. Before Nick entered she dragged the Gunner back on his heels and waited until she heard Smith start giving Edie and George some history on the place inside.

"What was that about?" Nick demanded.

"What?"

"You know what. Why didn't you tell him about me?"

"The less anyone knows about you, the better."

Nick smiled.

"Fortunately, that's a protocol that I try to steer toward."

"Then I'll take your thanks."

"I'm not grateful."

The Gunner swung a hand to bring Nick to a halt then closed in on her side so she was stuck between him and the wall next to the door.

"You think it's a risk what you're doing?" he said sharply in a heavy whisper. "Well have you stopped to wonder about what people _my_ side would think if they saw me trotting along with a servant?" He got his answer by Nick not replying. "I didn't think so. That's why from now on _I'll_ do the talking."

"So what will I do?"

"Stand besides me and look pretty."

He barged past her and into the cathedral. She exhaled heavily and stepped in after. Inside was impressive. There were blue ceilings and gold decoration around the pillars and decorations that hung from the walls. Unfortunately they didn't have time for much of a tour, which didn't bother Nick as she always felt uncomfortable in churches.

"So what, I'm being demoted to sidekick again?" whispered Nick, as they walked up the aisle. Something like sadness hit her as she thought it would be the only time she would ever do such a thing.

"I thought you said you weren't his sidekick?"

"I-er…shut up," said Nick, seeing the smile on the Gunner's face grow increasingly large into a stupid, smug face. "I'm not."

"Then why did you say _again?_"

Nick huffed and walked towards the furthest door, making sure she knocked into him with her shoulder, and then tried to hide the pain when she'd forgotten she was actually banging into bronze.

"If you knew how many times you grifters have cheated us spits you'd understand. I don't want others believing there's another one trying to pull the wool over our eyes," the Gunner continued.

"So then you _do_ believe me? I'm flattered."

"I'm merely withholding judgement."

"I'm not a con."

"You two _still_ arguing?" Edie said, stepping out the door.

"Bit of trouble?" said Smith, coming out after her.

"Oh, it's nothing. Me and my…" the Gunner coughed, "accomplice, are just fine." He walked past Nick and elbowed her in the ribs.

"You're the crony," Nick grumbled under her breath.

The Gunner turned back and winked at her.

Smith led them through the church and out the back, across the small graveyard and towards some steps towards the crypt. Just left of the crypt there was a small path, very much overgrown by the long grasses and bushes so that visitors to the church did not notice it. Smith took them down the path that cut around the crypt, fighting off the clasp of the thorns that emerged from the bushes with his sword. He led them to a small, circular grass area. Like the path it was overgrown with weeds. Dead fruit plants moulded and oozed some vile citrus pus, blistering in the sun. The cobbled ground was chiselled and broken, held together only by the thick weeds that grew around them. Streams of ivy hung down over a splintering wooden ring which ran the whole way around the circle. In the middle of all this was a small brick well, looking much older than the church itself. Older than anything. Covering the lid, a wooden bar held by lock and chain was secured but with one great pull from Smith, the rusted chain pulled apart easily and snapped under the pressure. No one had disturbed this place for a very long time. Edie wondered what was so bad about it.

"This is the holy well. One of many which lie across the sacred ley lines through this City." Smith spoke in a hushed tone, looking around to make sure they hadn't been followed.

He took time before speaking, not wanting to reveal too much about the importance of the well, but trying to get the message across. He didn't know whether anyone could be eavesdropping. Edie peeked at her heart stone in her pocket, it glowed bright blue but that was because of Nick being there. She wouldn't know whether anyone else was watching. She felt uneasy. Her piece of sea glass was her lifeline, but now it was useless.

She could feel a pulse beckoning from the stone walls of the well. It called out for her touch.

Smith walked to one side and picked up a long bunched up ravel of rope and tied it around a large oak tree that stood to one side. He twisted the rope over and over, round and round and gave it a firm tug to make sure it was secure. Finally he looked back at them.

"This is you're route down."

"What? You want us to actually go down the well?" Edie gasped.

"You want to find the Old power; to put an end to the Stone? The ley lines have been undisturbed for many millennia. The best chance of harnessing that power would be to find the heart of it. Go down the well. Follow its hidden routes. Enter the very core of the Square Mile. You should find your answer."

George peeked over the edge of the well into the darkness. It looked a very long way down.

"But remember..." Smith warned, "the ancient lines of power will not be played dumb. It will be protected and whatever you find down there will be dangerous. You might get tested. I shall stay here until you have reached the bottom safely. After that I'm afraid you're on your own. Good luck."

He held a hand to his head and bid them a salute.

"Thank you Captain," said the Gunner, returning the salute.

Smith threw the end of the rope over the edge. It descended, unravelling until for a long few seconds until the rope went taught.

"I'll go first."

The Gunner was already heaving himself over the edge as he said it, taking hold of the rope tight in his hand. He lowered himself gently and after a few minutes George called out to him and he shouted back; "Right, who's next?"

George looked at Edie. She was a little uncertain. There was no way she could get down the well without touching the stone sides. She sighed, bracing herself for what was about to happen.

"Oh what the hell," she said, reaching out and touching it.

Time splinched as she glinted. She felt it drag her body across the ground that was shifting beneath her through the past. The time it took seemed forever. The surroundings skimmed past Edie, changing and changing as it tried to settle on a particular sight. It almost seemed to have its own difficulty deciding on when it had originated. This was indeed, very old.

The force was blowing Edie's hair about, pulling the air she breathed back out of her throat. Then her feet hit the floor, or rather, the floor hit her feet, crumpling upwards making her knees buckle under the weight. She found herself on all fours looking up at two men shouting orders. It was hard to guess what time period they came from. They wore neutral colours. Cloth and leather garments with pull strings in shades of browns, whites and greys. One man, with darker hair had called over a small man in rags who quacked over the superior man's voice. He held a shovel in his hands which he forced down into the saturated ground and started to dig. The other man with light hair, looked warily at the floor, running his hand across the stubble on his chin, full of meaning and reflection. Edie noticed a small trickle of water by her feet, it led up to where the small, scrawny man was digging. A small, barely noticeable spring was seeping and bubbling out of the ground.

Edie was grabbed again by the force and she was smacked down and thrown to the side as time span and splintered around her. She stood once again and looked at the pictures spinning around her. The colours blurred and the edges of objects curved around the vortex she was in the middle off. Then they started to slow right down until everything became back in focus and a fiery red light took hold.

The well was now built, it looked younger and the garden was full of bloom, except there were flames. A fire. The rageful heat was something she'd never felt before. The petals of roses shrunk and curved in on themselves before finally catching fire. The wood from young tree branches was feeding fuel for the monster spreading its way across the land. Yet, something was strange. Edie looked at the well which was unaffected. In present day, the test of time had cracked the foundations; crumbling under the long presence of itself over the ages. However the flames she was seeing were not affecting it. The blaze set forward, its edges licking towards the well like an animal on the prowl, but some unknown force; some invisible barrier was blocking its touch. The fire spat out amber crackles fiercely in its wrath but the well stood unharmed.

For one last time, space split and Edie was thrown between the void, trying to cling on to any presence she could feel. This time the spin of being trapped between possibilities was almost instant and she was shocked that she had stopped already. Her mind took a little longer to catch up, spinning when everything else had already come to a halt. A group huddled around the well. Around eight men were stood in long clerical dress. The man at the front was in a tall, peaked hat. He was reading out of a book, a chant which the others repeated. Edie listened but couldn't tell what they were reciting. All sound seemed to fade and go fuzzy as the light also died down. Before it turned to black the man in the peaked hat became clear and Edie just managed to catch the front of the large script book he was reading from. The dark jade cover enchanted with large golden letters that spelled out…

"Libri of Urbs."

And then she was back.

"What?" said George.

George shook her. The colour seemed to return to her skin and she looked around to face him.

"I'm fine," said Edie.

"You said something."

"Edie?" she heard the Gunner shout from the bottom of the well.

"Did I? Oh it was probably nothing," she replied to George then shouted to the Gunner, "I'm fine."

"Cor blimey," said Smith. "Been along time since I've seen one of you around."

"Tell me about it," Nick grunted. For a second her face went bland and nostalgic. She sighed with a benign look at Edie. "She said _Book of the City._"

Both George and Edie stared at her.

"So I know a little Latin as well," Nick shrugged with the hint of a sly smile. "I don't know who wrote the book, but it's old. Being in Latin doesn't really give us much clue to its beginnings as that dead language was used in churches for years. Since the Roman invasion of Britain that begun in AD43 actually. Little history lesson for you there. Anyway, if it's indeed older than that then it's probably been translated over time- from Old English, Middle English etcetera, so what the Walker ended up with was not the original, probably a litter of past versions jumbled together."

"You mean it might not be reliable?" queried George.

"Wouldn't you say the fact we awakened the Last Lion was proof enough that the translators did a pretty good job?"

"Good point. Translators one, Stone nil."

"But if it's that old then why would it lead us to Trafalgar Square? The Lions, they've only been around since the 1800s or something" said Edie.

"1867," Nick corrected . Edie threw her a vile look and Nick blushed. "Well maybe you were right, Edie, when you said the riddle was specifically written to mean something to the one who could carry it out. The unknown powers in this world and the other unLondons beyond us are unfathomable. Maybe when the laws were set out, they weren't just set for that generation; maybe they were set for the future, an access through all of time and space."

"Don't turn all Doctor Who on us, Nick, just tell us what needs to be done now."

"I'm just saying, is all. Must just be magic," Nick scoffed and pulled her hoody far over her head and wiggled her fingers in front of her face towards Edie.

"I have no idea what you kids are talking about, but it sounds jolly fun," laughed Smith.

Edie looked weary and Nick frowned.

"Fine," said Nick. "What needs to be done is you get down that hole, sharpish."

With that over, Edie took a hold of Smith's arm who helped her over the side. With a briefing 'good luck' from him, she made her way down the shaft. She clung to the rope with both hands and her feet wrapped around it and set a rhythm of resisting and letting the pressure off so she slid down. The rope was frayed and burned her hands as she hugged it tightly. She made slow progress downwards but that was good; she didn't want to experience the fast way. When she was almost at the bottom the Gunner took hold of her legs and carried her the distance to the floor. Her feet were submerged into the cold water that resided at the bottom. She caught her breath while George followed. Nick was last, surprisingly quicker than all three of them.

"Should've brought your wellies," said the Gunner. "Apparently these kind of wells never dry and they never freeze." He looked back up the shaft. "We're all down," he shouted to Smith. "Thank you."

"No no, thank you," Smith's voice echoed back, and the small silhouette of him at the top of the well moved away as he made his way back to his plinth.

"Right, now he's gone, do you want to inform us how in God's name you knew about the holy well?" said the Gunner.

"Lucky guess," said Nick unhelpfully.

"Don't play with me, Nick. It's not too late for me to hop out of here and enjoy the rest of the weekend on my own in the sun. I could do with getting a tan."

"It's because I'm old, Gunner, and things were a lot less hidden and a lot more talked about in the past. I know of the holy wells and the ley lines and all the power contained in them. If we're going to defeat the Darkness then we're going to need that power, because it's all part of the power that trapped the Darkness in the Stone in the first place."

"The Light?" said the Gunner.

"The Old power," said Nick. "Think of the Light and the Dark as small branches of the Old power. The rest of it is laid underneath our feet in the foundations of this long and forgotten sacred City. It's everything. It's the Mother of potential, albeit one which tends to incline more favourably towards the Light more often than not."

Just then they all froze when a faint echo was heard rattling off the walls close by.

The Gunner put his finger to his lips.


	33. Under

At the bottom of the well the only light was in the small circle they were standing in, entering from the shaft above. To most one would believe there was nothing beyond that but Nick felt out into the creped darkness and felt nothing. No brick. No stone. No resistance. It was a route.

"Guys, check this out."

She moved forward, suddenly consumed by the black void and felt something weird. Like a change in pressure. Her ears popped. The air around her seemed to be in a small pressurised vacuum so that the pressure increased when Nick got closer to the wall. She realised that she could walk faster purely depending on this new sense she was emoting. She could feel the water that lined the bottom of the corridor around her feet. It was flowing forward. She splashed on in the same direction but her foot hit a rise in the floor and as it pressed down, it clicked. Nick couldn't see it but stayed perfectly still, alarm bells ringing in her head. Smith's warning about tests. Had she just sprung a trap? She imagined that if she lifted her foot a dozen or so arrows would spring out of the darkness or a wooden javelin with spikes on the end would swing down on her.

"Stay where you are!" she shouted back to the others, hoping that they would hear her, she didn't know how far behind they were and realised just how alone she felt, and how vulnerable. She wanted the exit.

"Nick? Where are you?"

Edie's voice merely echoed a light tone. She seemed far away. Nick closed her eyes, the passage she was in was very thin so there wouldn't be any point in moving to the side. But the tension had peaked and she couldn't stand it anymore. She took her foot away. But what swung was nothing. Nothing crashed down from above. Nothing punctured the air as it was shot at vast speed. Nick eyes, which were firmly shut, sensed a change. Light seemed to be making its way through her eyelids and as she slowly opened one eye the corridor was now full of it. It took a moment to adjust. She squinted back and saw the others covering their eyes, blocking the painful brightness. They started to make their way towards her.

"Nice one," George patted her on her back as he passed.

Nick was frozen for a second, her heart racing.

The corridor was long and narrow and all of them started to feel the creep of claustrophobia as they made their way deeper into the core of the City.

"How much further you reck-" George began to ask before the walls shook and everyone threw their arms against the wall to stable themselves. Bits of rock fell from the ceiling and dust was thrown into the air until eventually the rumbling died back down.

"What was that!" George asked coughing and fanning the dust awake with his hand.

"Earthquake?" Edie nervously guessed.

"Nah. Nothing like that I reckon," said the Gunner. "Tube is the best guess. Central line runs near here I think. Surprised these tunnels have remained undiscovered truth be told, it must be mighty close for the ground to shake like that."

They treaded on, mostly in silence, listening to the echoes from their feet splashing in the water. The hairs on Nick's neck were standing; she was ready for a sudden onset of chaos, an attack. But nothing did happen and they finally saw the end of the channel.

"You know this kind of water is said to be good at healing?" said the Gunner with a frustrated chuckle. "Well you know what? It ain't fixing the darn hole in my boot. My foot is drenched!"

"I'll fix it for you when we're not saving the world," George said.

As if to prove his point the Gunner splashed down hard with a flat foot which echoed the spray of the plunge. He was clearly enjoying himself, and started humming a tune. A tune which started to irritate Nick as it only distracted her awareness. She paused abruptly, having the slightly odd sensation of deja vu. She'd heard that tune, she recognised it.

"What's that song?" she asked. The Gunner ignored her. "Gunner!"

"Did someone say something?" said the Gunner with a smug face.

"Fine. Be like that."

"You started it."

"Quiet. Both of you," issued Edie.

"It's going to be an uphill battle sorting those two out. How come it's the two youngest people having to play Mommy and Daddy?" chuckled George.

Nick huffed and walked on ahead, the tune still eating away at her.

They made it to the end in silence. They came to a giant convergence of corridors where they were presented with the choice of seven routes.

"Oh great, now where do we go?" the Gunner wined and looked to Nick. "Surely the great Shadow would know what to do in a situation like this?"

"Bust the chops of anyone taking the mick out of her," Nick said back coldly.

"It was quite some reputation you built up for yourself. Some of the things I used to hear: the illusion of it all, the whispers, all building up to some great warrior of the night. So imagine my letdown when it turned out to be you."

"Sorry to disappoint," Nick grumbled. "It was a persona that I took advantage of to stay out the gutter. I want nothing more to do with it."

"So everything I heard was a lie?"

"That depends on what you heard."

Nick walked on to disrupt the conversation, forcing the Gunner to do nothing other than shake his head and carry on behind with his mouth shut and a grimace on his lips. He knew Nick liked being shrouded in a veil of mystery and that only sometimes he could see the transparency within it, seeing something he believed was the real Nick. But it wouldn't stay open for very long and she would go back to being a closed book again.

At the centre of the congruence laid a small stone circle, only so high that it came to knee level but it rose above the level of the water. It was missed by everyone examining the choice of other directions. Edie noticed it though. The circle had a small opening about the size of a fist but it had mostly been covered by a steel mesh plate, leaving a smaller opening. A thin white light was escaping from underneath it down another shaft. Edie placed her hands around the stone circle leaning in to take a closer look. But at her touch the light unexpectedly changed to a huge light shining down from above her. She covered her face as the light was so intense.

"Who are you?" a voice boomed. The echoing was so strong that their ears couldn't locate where the voice was coming from.

"Umm," a small screech escaped from Edie's trembling lips. "I am Edie," she called back.

"WHO ARE YOU?" the voice roared.

All of them covered their ears, the resonance too extreme to bear. George fell to his knees and sent up a spray of water. He was caught unaware; a steel arm was thrust around him, dragging him back to his feet and against a body of cold. He was soaked through. His hair which he'd left untamed for too long flopped in wet strands over his eyes and hung in his mouth. The same thing happened to Nick except she was ready for it. She span on her heels at the same time as dropping to her knees, thereby relinquishing the hold on her and gaining a second of advantage time. She chopped her foot backwards so it caught the figure against a hovering leg at the same time as detecting a sparkle from the corner of her eye. Her hand reached out and grabbed the hilt of a sword which she thrust up out of its holder and span it round in a circle, disabling the next grab for her.

The Gunner removed his hands from his ears and opened his tight shut eyes to look at the presence that stood in front of him. Out of nowhere a suit of armour had risen above the ground. There was no one occupying it, the very metal was alive. George was reminded of the Last Knight of the Cnihtengild. The armour that was hovering pointed a lengthy, sharpened sword at the Gunner, cornering him against the wall before he could pull out his gun. It came so close that it forced the Gunner onto his knees. He raised the palms of his hands up, not sure how the empty chain-mail helmet could see his surrender at all.

There was a loud clank as Nick seemed to appear in front of him so quickly that he wondered if he'd suffered some kind of blackout. She had chopped down the sword by his chest with her own stolen sword and now stood pointing it forward, standing between him and the knight attacker.

"Don't know what you'd do without me sometimes," Nick said in a tetchy way back to the Gunner.

The knight raised a black glove out to her which hovered at the end of the empty casing of a gauntlet. The index finger of the glove pointed right at Nick's heart.

"Arghh!"

Nick dropped the sword and recoiled over her abdomen, pain cramping her stomach in agony as she clutched her arms across her body. Her head felt open with light. She went dizzy and could feel herself falling backwards. The Gunner was ready with open arms behind. She oomphed and wheezed as she landed in his hold. The pain went.

"Likewise," the Gunner smirked.

The dropped sword rose off the ground and met the black glove. The fingers curled around the sheath even thought there were no fingers inside to give it grip.

Everyone had been stopped in their tracks, everyone except Edie. She stayed as she was, aware of what had just happened, an onlooker to her friends' capture. How had these things appeared from nowhere? Or had they always been here? She thought of how Nick could hide in plain sight. Why hadn't they taken her?

"WHO ARE YOU?"

The voice summoned and this time Edie let out a cry as the sound hit her ear drum with such force, she thought it had burst. Edie's mind raced. They didn't want her name, that hadn't worked. What if…? She looked over to Nick who seemed to have figured it out as well.

"I am a Key!" Edie shouted.

The suit holding George slackened its grip on him a fraction.

"PLACE YOUR HAND ON THE LIGHT."

Edie waited, unsure whether to trust the voice. The steel mesh between the stone circle had started to glow a bright green. Edie tried to put her hand through the small gap but it wouldn't fit so she placed her palm flat out across the wiring. Steam started to fizz out between her fingers. There was a shudder and the metal strips started to move under her fingers as if reading them. When it finished the green light disappeared and the suits of armour fell to the floor with a clang, disposed off. George staggered backwards when the resistance behind him was suddenly removed. His feet tripped over the dead armour on the floor. Nick jumped to her feet, blinking around the room.

"THE KEY CAN UNLOCK THE CITY," the voice tethered off and the bright light vanished, leaving the room back to the way it was.

They all gawped, looking around blinking, trying to fathom out what just happened. Nick turned around and held her hand out to the Gunner. He took it and pulled himself to his feet. They shared a quick look at each other but said nothing.

"That was the test, right?" Edie asked. "We can go on?"

"Don't know. You reckon?" said Nick but she wasn't really concentrating. Her mind had gone back to thinking about the tune the Gunner had been humming. It struck a chord in her head, something telling her it was important. If only she could figure out why.

"Hey just wait a second!" George was looking baffled. "What was all that about? What did you mean; _I am a key?_"

Edie paused for a moment.

"Don't know about you, George, but I'm feeling the girls are keeping something from us," said the Gunner.

"I'm sorry," said Edie. "I don't have time to explain it all now."

Her eyes were looking down the seven channels, all of which looked the same. _Seven_. Did the number have something to do with the deadly vice in the riddle? She strode off towards one of them leaving George irate. He brushed some dust of his jumper and as he patted his pockets, his face turned to panic. He was missing something; the gem. Luckily it hadn't been stolen, it had just fallen and scuttled across the floor when he'd been captured. It had stopped next to Nick's feet. She bent and picked it up, held it to the light and brushed off some of the dirt it had picked up.

"Oh my God."

It was at that moment Nick's memory flashed and she remembered the song she had heard once before already today, being quietly hummed as she left the Blackfriar Pub.

"Tragedy."

Nick hadn't realised she'd said anything. She looked up with the others staring at her.

"What?" said Edie.

"Here comes a candle to light you to bed. And here comes a chopper to chop off your head."

It was all coming together for Nick.

"Figured it out at last have you?" said the Gunner. "It's from-"

"_Oranges and Lemons,_" said Nick.

"Well, yeah, it was one of the clues me and Dictionary figured out to lead us here."

"The song. Mary-le-Bow. He said the lyric. It can't be".

Nick was practically whispering now. Mumbling something the others didn't catch. They could see the dubious look of distorted nihilism on her face. They could virtually see the cogs turning in her head. Little Tragedy had said it to Nick. Was it a hint? Her mind raced back through the happenings of the day and tried to focus on her time at the pub. What else did he say? _'__ROARRR!'_

"The Lion!" she yelled.

"What are you going on about?" George quizzed her.

Edie and the Gunner looked the same: confused.

"Arghh, all those little mumblings, all the incoherent sentences that just sounded like random sprawl. I ignored it but he was helping me!" Nick stuttered.

Nick tried to focus again but her heart had started racing in her chest, pounding against her rib cage and she was too overcome with adrenaline to think. She looked back to the gem in her hand and thought of the last thing she heard Little Tragedy say; _'You have to drop it'. _Nick leaped over to the stone circle, the metal gauze had blocked off most of the shaft but created a small hole. A hole too small for Edie's fist, but it was the perfect size for, say, a gem, for the ruby.

"_Pursue the gem light from where it is shown. _We have to drop the ruby in there,_" _Nick pointed down the hole_._

"What?" the Gunner shrieked. "But it'll be gone, we'll lose it forever."

"We have to."

Nick looked at Edie.

"You're sure?" said Edie.

"Positive."

Nick wasn't sure. Not at all. But she was good enough at lying to put as much belief and confidence in her voice for Edie to be convinced. She nodded. Edie knew they had to forfeit it and Edie knew it had to be her to do it. She walked up to the circle which turned white with her touch as she rested her hand on it. Nick passed her the gem, it glistened in her eye before Edie took one last agonizing breath and dropped it. Time seemed to slow down. George just stood back and watched whilst the Gunner raised his hand to his forehead.

"What happens next?" Edie asked.

Nobody answered. They didn't have to. The answer arrived. Out of the plummet beneath the metal gauze a red light shone up. It reflected off the ceiling before crossing back and forth between little strips of metal attached to the walls above their heads. It created a pentacle; a five point star. Inside the middle pentagon a square was also drawn from the light. One of the points of the star continued straight down the path ahead. Nick stood open mouthed and she took in the majesty of it. But the beauty only lasted a short while before fading, and then it was gone. Nick was about to speak before a hissing came from the ground beneath her feet and bubbles of air rose to the surface of the water. The floor cracked and a red light emerged from it, crawling its way through the earth underneath the water, writing a message. Nick staggered back with a big splash and watched until the water stopped moving and the words stopped coming. The words which wrote;

'_The ruby within is the greatest sacrifice.'_


	34. Traveller

A smart-looking man made his way up Cannon Street. He had travelled a long distance to be here. He wore elegant clothes; black suit trousers, a long dark overcoat and a fitted, grey waistcoat where a small, golden compass hung from a chain. He made sure it was always polished and kept himself trim and proper. He also wore a gold signet ring with an angel carved on it. He was well-groomed. His eyes were dark and narrowed, and his cheekbones harsh and determined. His hair was coal black and greased backwards onto his shoulders. He looked very slick. Calm and collective. Surprisingly quite handsome. Even the faint white scars curling around the front of both ears looked comely, also adding a touch of seductive troublesomeness to his suave exterior.

It was hard to tell his exact height. The spring in his step seemed to miss a beat and his movement seemed very jerky like an old video player that was stuck on pause, throwing the image about the screen. One second he stood next to London Stone and the next he was knelt down. It seemed so quick that the moment between the two poses didn't blend and was a jitter between time and space. He put his arms between the iron grill.

"It is my pleasure to serve." His voice had no real accent but was deep with a confident swagger.

He listened.

"I have not seen whom you speak off, milord, but I can find them. I shall put guards by all the entrances; if they try to revolt then I'll make it sure they will not get their hands on the Old power."

He withdrew his arms from the bars very slowly and ordered some commands to gargoyles that hung off a nearby building. With a screech they banded through the air, only harnessing the air underneath their bulky wings moments before they would have hit the ground. They flew off in separate locations, each one flying to different lines of power and guarding the sacred wells that lay on them. One swooped down in the churchyard of St Mary-le-bow. It looked around cautiously.

The spit of John Smith stayed perfectly still. The taint was ignorant and ignored the 'dead' statue. Smith smiled secretly in the knowledge that the taint could not find what it was looking for. The Last Lion which remained faithfully where Edie had left it rested nearby. It growled and the taint jumped backwards. It growled again, blazing sharp white teeth but the taint stood its ground. The lion was angry and pounced violently quick. The taint only just managed to clear it, hunching its wings in the air to lift off the ground. It swayed unsteadily as the lion clawed at the air only inches away. The taint rocked and settled on a nearby lamp post and threw a look which suggested it was mocking the lion, if it could make any expression other than the ugly stone features that had been carved into its face. The lion lay down again, and with another growl it kept a good eye on the little gremlin. It snarled and began to lick its paw.

Concurrently, the fidgety servant remained by the Stone. He brought one hand to his hair and combed it back with his fingers whilst breathing in heavily. London looked very different since the last time he saw it. He smiled. It was good to be back.

00000000000000000

Meanwhile less than a mile away- Nick, George, Edie and the Gunner were already far away from the holy well on Bow Street. In the congruence they had found themselves in, they watched the message in the ground shine a bright red for a few seconds before it faded and vanished like the star had. Nick took a few steps towards where the light had pointed.

"I guess it's this way then."

"Good work, girl," said the Gunner.

"Stop calling me that," said Nick.

"What, girl? Fine. Old immortal one, go grab you're Zimmer-frame, we're moving."

Nick grunted. They followed the Gunner to the end of the path. All of them were quiet, thinking about what lay ahead waiting for them when they reached it.


	35. Spring

The end was shorter than they expected. They came to a pool. It was where all the rain gathered in the water-table of the Square Mile. It was raised up so that at one end the excess could flow down a natural incline and enter one of the many closed off underground tributaries that eventually led to the Thames. To be honest, there seemed nothing particularly special about this place and Edie was disappointed.

"Now what?" said George.

"I don't know," said Nick pulling out the piece of paper which had the riddle on it. "_Defeat is part thrice_. Three parts, right? If releasing the lion was one and coming here was the second, that leaves one more, and I think that will point us to another place."

"Then what are we doing here?"

"This place must be special otherwise why would they bother building all those wells? What if that makes the water special as well?"

"I thought it had something to do with the ley lines. That's what Smith said. They connect sacred places of worship like the churches and the wells," the Gunner piped up.

"Well what if they were all meant for the same purpose. I've seen a map of the ley lines, it creates a pentacle, just like the one which was drawn above our heads in the congruence. They are lines of extreme power. A lot older and stronger than the Stone. This water could have passed along those lines, feeding it with the same supremacy."

"So what are we suppose to do, drink it?" said George, looking at the fairly murky composition of the water which ran down the slope. The water in the pool however was crystal clear.

"Not we, George, Edie."

"Edie?" he said shaking his head. "Not this again. Why does everything have to be about Edie?"

Edie looked at Nick and knew now must be the time to tell him. George grunted at the hesitancy between them.

"Only Edie can awaken the lion. Oh, only Edie can drop the ruby down the burrow, now only Edie should drink the water. Please, someone tell me what's going on!"

He was heated up now. Battle quarters were being drawn up as they spoke but he didn't understand the side he was playing on.

"Are you jealous, George?" Edie smirked.

His anger could not hold with her, and his face cracked into a tired smile.

"I just wanna know."

"I think Nick tells it better than me," Edie said turning to her.

"Well if you must insist," Nick glared at Edie who looked abashed. Nevertheless Nick nodded. "Edie is special. She's The Key. Well rather, a Key. Key's are girls who have been born to a mother Glint and a father Master Maker."

The Gunner looked confused already but Nick couldn't explain it any simpler.

"What!" he snapped.

"There's an old law that says only a Key will have the power to ultimately defeat the Stone."

"Yes yes, I know that."

"You do?" Nick sounded shocked.

"Well, yeah..." the Gunner replied a little out of his depth, "but I know it as an old known phrase said in old spit folklaw. How does it go again? _'The angels have rose, and called now by Stags and Does, their Key's vanquish of foes.' _Some rubbish like that. I didn't know it meant people like Edie!"

"And Nick..." interjected Edie.

"Say what?" said the Gunner.

"I used to be a Key, before I was cursed. Not anymore," Nick sighed. "It doesn't mean Edie is '_The One'_ or anything." Nick mocked bunny ears with her fingers. "There may be other Key's out there, but the chances are slim. You know how rare Glints are..."

She said the last part quietly, not wanting to get into another discussion about the Walker.

"And if they are out there they probably won't know how important they are. There's no time. The Stone wants an uprising. If it succeeds then that's that. We won't be able to stop it then."

"Well when you put it like that…" George said with raised eyebrows. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you," said Edie "If the Stone finds out about me…"

"That law must have come from the Book of the City. How come you knew about it and I only knew it as some fairytale?" said the Gunner quizzically.

"You're forgetting I've been around a lot longer than you have," said Nick. "And I know the wrong sorts of people. The reason it's unknown now is because the Stone has done a good job of covering it up. An awfully good job. Awful in every sense of the word."

"When I heard what Edie was, I didn't think that had ever happened before, a Glint and a Master Maker…"

"Well it happened at least once," Nick's mouth angled up but her eyes showed signs of pain.

"Well then," said the Gunner, poofing out his cheeks at looking at Edie. "Drink up."

Edie noticed the natural raised pool had a circular ledge around one side. It was almost as if the ground had constructed itself for the purpose of the Key. She stepped down to the ledge into the water and something happened. The water started sparkling. The light shimmered in Edie's eye as she bent down and with cupped hands, took a handful of water. She looked at George who gave her a look of encouragement. She raised her hands to her mouth and drank. She paused for a moment, expecting something to happen. When it didn't, she looked at Nick and shrugged her shoulders. Edie took a few more sips just to make sure. That and because she was thirsty and the water was nice and cool.

"Feel any different?" George asked.

"I dunno."

"Well maybe things will become clearer with time," said Nick. "We still have the third clue to solve, it might connect to- what's that?"

Nobody had noticed it before but Nick just had. Above their heads a jade coloured ladder was descending. It snaked down unrolling almost as if by magic as it floated to hang besides Edie. They all stared at it in silence, mouths wide open. Looking up at the cieling of the cavern rock they saw a small hole which they'd not seen before. Nick felt the first numbing sensation of darkness in her stomach start up again.

"I guess that's our way out," she pointed.


	36. Prison

"Can you hear that?" said Nick.

Small whimpering noises could be heard above them where the ladder led to at the top of the cavern. They were quiet, but the earth that surrounded them was picking up the echoes.

"I can," said Edie. She could see no more point in staying down here. She would be pleased to get out in the fresh air and figured that even if there wasn't a way out up ahead, at least they would be closer to the surface.

"Edie, wait!" said the Gunner, as she put her foot on the first rung and stepped up, alternatively moving her arms and legs in sequence, ignoring him.

She climbed to the top and stood onto another floor. There was a flight of steps in front of her presumably leading to the ground floor, out into the street. She looked left then right. To the left there was an iron grill, not unlike the one that covered the Stone. She squinted her eyes. In the shadows behind the grill were two shy faces, hidden away in the dark. Edie squinted harder, trying to focus in on them.

"E-Edie?" a voice rang from the darkness.

Edie tiptoed closer and recognised the girls. The Queen daughters. Edie ran up to the grill to try and force it free. The effort required however was much less than she thought. At the very touch of Edie's hand, a light passed through the moment of contact and spread out over the entire grill, something clicked and the side came away from the wall. Edie pulled on it and the two girls ran out, one of them throwing her arms around Edie, squeezeing tightly. The other daughter looked back at the grill confused.

"Oh Edie, thank goodness. We thought we would be trapped down here forever," the first daughter squealed.

Edie wasn't sure if spits could feel the cold as much, but the girls were shivering in their thin dresses, locked up in their wintry prison.

"How did you do that?" the second daughter queried with a concerned look.

"Um, I don't know, the grill just sort of- came away. How long have you been down here?"

As Edie spoke, George made it to the top of the ladder.

"I'm not sure, about a week I guess. What day is it now? When the Ice Murk covered the city, you ran into the fog. We came after you, tried looking for you but we got ambushed by a group of taints. We ran down streets a plenty not knowing where we were heading, barely able to see in front of our very eyes. We reached an area where the fog abruptly stopped. It ran around in a circle but wouldn't come any closer in. It surrounded a small well that remained untouched by the mist. We could hear the taints surrounding us; the flapping of their wings, the stamps of their hooves. They wouldn't enter the circle however. They just stopped before it, deep enough in the fog so that we couldn't see them. Waiting for us. We had no option but to climb down."

Nick could hear talking from above but it didn't sound like they were in any danger. She looked up the ladder. She and the Gunner were the only ones left to climb. She sighed through the awkward silence.

"Listen, it's hard for me to say sorry and mean it but… I don't want us to fight anymore. We're supposed to be on the same side," she said.

"Say it then," the Gunner replied.

"What?"

"That you're sorry."

"I just did."

"No, you said it's hard for you to say it. You never actually did."

"Don't try my patience, Gunner."

"Why, because it's an uphill battle? Fortunately for me my bronze feet aren't prone to getting blisters."

Nick sighed with the worn out cinders of her calmness.

"Why are you making this so difficult?"

"You think servants have ever made my life easy?"

"What more can I do?"

The Gunner looked at her hard and thought profoundly.

"Promise me," he said.

"Promise you what?"

"If what you say is true then Edie is in danger. You know about this 'Key' stuff. Promise me you'll look after her."

"You and George mean a lot to her."

"We're all she's got."

"You're lucky," said Nick with rooted understanding in her doleful, green eyes. "You got it, Gunner. I promise you I'll keep her safe."

He nodded and accepted the handshake which she offered him.

"Now what about you?" said Nick. "If we go against the Stone I need support from you because I can't do this on my own. We need to be impervious. Resistant. Any cracks between us and it'll all collapse."

"A spit and a servant. No one ever said it was going to be the easiest of partnerships."

"That sounds like one of Aesop's fables."

"Well you're certainly a wolf in sheep's clothing."

"And you're the ass's brains," she grinned. "No. You're right. I'm just…I don't know. The kids have gotten themselves too deep too quickly. When things happen fast people make mistakes. Everything's bottling in my mind and I don't think I can be the person I need to be. I'm sure you know what it's like. The pressure you must feel for them… you're a father to them."

The Gunner swallowed hard and his eyes went dazzled by an array of emotions.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier, Gunner. But we're OK, yeah?"

"It's fine," the Gunner replied and cleared his throat. "We're fine."

He cleared his throat again and stuck a hand out to her which she shook yet again. Nick was surprised at how composed he was and how effortlessly he had forgiven her. She tired to remember if this was what it was like to have friends.

"And we're partners. None of that bull about accomplices," Nick added.

"Ahh come on. You love being the bottom dog. The dark horse. Complain all you want about it but we both know who's calling the shots."

He gave her an informed look and she replied with a much practiced face of authentic innocence. The Gunner cocked an eyebrow and reached up and put his foot on a rung. As he did so Nick whispered 'ladies first' under a cough and concealed a grin. The Gunner smirked back at her through narrow, dallied eyes and continued to climb. Just as he was about to reach the top Nick indecisively looked back down at the clear water of the pool around her feet. She thought for a moment before quickly bending down and secretly taking a scoop of water in her hands and raised it too her mouth. It was refreshing, but no, she didn't feel any different. She hoped they weren't just wasting their time here. She brushed a trickle of water off her chin with her sleeve just as the Gunner looked back down and called to her to start climbing.

The daughter stopped talking as she saw the Gunner help Nick up the last bit of the ladder in the background. The other daughter continued as she saw her sister was getting distressed. Edie waited for her to continue, feeling quite guilty for the incident that had been bestowed on the girls.

"We went down the well and got captured by suits of armour. We'd never seen anything like it before. They weren't people, nor spits. They just floated above and swooped down on us. They asked us who we were but they didn't like the answer we gave and trapped us behind that," the daughter pointed at the grill on the floor.

Edie looked them over in their thin dresses, they were shivering.

"Where did you get that?" Edie said surprised, nodding down to the hand of the second sister. She held a sharp, flint knife a little bigger than the Walker's, but it was plain and old looking, not nearly as dazzling with crusted jewels as his was. There were some odd carvings around the handle.

"We found it here yesterday," the first girl spoke again. "We swore we searched this cell hard over when we got here, but then it just…turned up. I almost sat on it. We thought we could use it to escape, but look…"

The first daughter brought the knife up to the iron bars and struck the blade against it. But the two didn't meet, there was no clatter as flint met iron; the flint was knocked downwards by an undetectable energy that compelled it away. Like magnetism. The iron was left unharmed without a scratch.

"We don't know what's stopping it."

"It's like magic," said Edie.

"I don't believe in magic," Nick stepped in, taking a closer look. "It's just what we don't understand."

"Depends how you define magic. Yeah, in this world, statues come alive. I could say that was magic. It doesn't mean I don't believe it."

"Whatever," said a disgruntled Nick, who was distracted by the iron bars and wasn't taking Edie's words in. "This is like the grill in front of the Stone," she mumbled to herself.

The daughters both stared at Nick as she looked closer around the edges of the grill. They both sensed something shadowy about her and retreated slightly, trying not to make it noticeable.

"But look," the second daughter said, taking the knife from her sister. "These steel strips that lay the floor as a seal to the iron. When we strike the knife against that…" she paused but carried out the action to let it speak for itself. The flint scrapped across the outer layer of the steel strips. The hard flint edge created amber sparks that flew out, forcing Nick to stagger back. The sparks settled back on the ground and doused out. The daughter went to pass the knife to Edie but she shook her head and backed away, it was exerting a strong force, a strength that certainly wasn't magnetism but still called out for her touch, like the sins of its past were screaming at her.

"Can I have a look?" Nick said, nodding at the knife with her chin.

The daughters' shared a wary glane at eachother which Nick picked up on. However the daughter with the knife reluctantly stretched out her hand towards her.

"It's okay, she's with us," Edie noted.

Nick felt sad that Edie had to first approve of her for others to trust her, but she had become used to it over the years. No one ever fully believed her. She just couldn't win trust. Nick supposed that if she couldn't trust people herself she wouldn't expect people to trust her back. She did however have a bit more faith knowing that Edie had some confidence in her.

Nick turned the knife over in her hand. She wasn't sure but she could sense some kind of weird feeling about it, like a pull being drawn towards it. The longer she held it the more nagging a feeling on the edge of her mind became, something she was missing. Something she wasn't seeing. It made her head hurt thinking about it. She shivered and put it in one of her jean pockets, suddenly not wanting to hold it anymore. It was certainly special, but Nick had a bad feeling a bout it.

They stayed there for another ten minutes, explaining to the daughters the journey they had been on. They gazed with open mouths as Nick explained the riddle and the Stone's plans. The daughters thought it was best if they didn't come with them on their expedition, there wasn't enough room on the lion if they needed a quick get away, and they just needed to see their mother. The Red Queen had been sick with worry, a sickness which had turned into hate and rage. She was ready to burn the whole City down to find them, a feat nobody believed wasn't possible. Edie had told them to tell the Queen what was happening and to warn others to stay away from Cannon Street.

All of them made their way up the steps in front of the ladder, which had since ravelled back up without them noticing. They exited the cavern and found themselves to be in the grounds of City Temple church. The building, which George had often mistook for Temple Church reminded him a lot of St Mary-le-bow, and similarly suffered a lot of damage in the Second World War. He knew The Strand ley line ran close by here; one of only few ley lines in London to be discovered by people in the other unLondon, the one George sometimes wished he could go back to whenever he chose. It was much simpler there.

He noticed the Gunner perch on a step and hand his canteen to Edie, who glugged the water down and then splattered it around her face. They chatted to the Queen's daughters whilst they rested.

"Nick," George called, indicating with a finger for her to come by. Nick came over and he led her a little further away so the others were out of earshot. "This little treasure hunt. It better be for real."

"Oh not you as well, George. I've had enough trouble trying to convince the Gunner."

"If you do anything to hurt Edie I swear-"

"Whoa. Look. I get that you're worried for her but I'm trying to help you guys out. I have been from the start. I would greatly appreciate it if you lot could give me a little room to breathe."

"For as many good things I've seen about you, I've heard worse. I don't know you, not all of you. You've had a bad life, I get that, but I had to watch the Walker _kill_ Edie and now that monstrosity is back on these streets because of you. Regardless of your reasoning behind that choice it puts you on my blacklist."

"What do you mean he killed her?"

"I mean he filled her lungs with the Thames until her heart stopped."

Nick seemed unable to speak. She'd promised the Gunner she would protect Edie, but she was already much too late.

"Then why is she still alive?" All kinds of bad thoughts ran through Nick's mind.

"The Gunner stole a bunch of heartstones from the Walker. They gave her the strenght to carry on living." George noticed Nick's shoulders come down like she was exhaling a trapped breath. He looked at her precariously. "I want to be wrong about you. I_ do_ want you to help, and I want to help you, but it's just been a right cock-up of a reality transition for me in the last week so surely you can understand why I'm a little wary."

"I care about Edie too, you know. She reminds me of me. How I was. Back then. The _good old days._ I don't want the same misfortune I had falling on her. She's a target right now and if the Stone gets hold of her… I wouldn't want to imagine what it would do with two Keys at its disposal."

George rubbed his eyes between thumb and fingers. He then looked over the street to Edie and sighed.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Nick," he sighed.

He started to walk back to Edie when a voice made him stop, and both of them turned around to see a familiar figure running towards them.


	37. Luck

"Gunner!"

They all looked round and saw the Clocker racing towards them. He looked exhausted. Even though his build was sleight and his long, pin legs could travel swift, long paces with each stride, running looked like a real effort to him. He was weighed down by the various trinkets attached to his jacket; the clocks were shaking about making a right racket. It made him look and sound like a Morris dancer, but even crazier looking. He caught up with them, taking huge gulps of air. He was pointing down the street but was unable to talk as he was so out of breath. He shook his arm trying to communicate it anyway.

"Wotcha," the Gunner said, grabbing the restless man's shoulders, trying to shake some life into him. "Hey now. Calm down. Take a breath and tell us."

"Well that was a bit of luck I tell you. Meeting you here," the Clocker gasped. "Ay, luck. Haha." He laughed as if enjoying an inside joke that the others didn't catch up on. "Was running back Dunstan's then. But now found you, so. Wanted to find you anyway. Heard ample commotion down Cannon Street. Reckon you'd be near Stone. So went looking. See if you got any further with clues. Was walking down street an' many, many servants, tallymen, etcetera. Round Stone. Few taints on lookouts across buildings an' all. Stones put as protection."

"What I've never got is..." George interrupted. "Tallymen, they're the Weirded, aren't they? Like you. Why are they with the Stone?"

"They're thralled to span length of time in own doom. Like self. Some choose it to work for Stone. Take as easy option. Think Stone can give them more power. Maybe way to break off own curse for good service. Think its all tommyrot, I do. They're stooges. Stone would dangle them out on strings. Always asking, never giving. Other Tallymen are lost men with untended minds, hexed to wrong-doing via unquestionable lack of judgement. Self neither. Lucky, though. Done only servitude of own. Owe none to others which would curse this world."

"I thought the Raven controlled them? I let Memory free from its magical bind," said Edie.

"Unknown to myself the power the Stone possesses. Found other ways of control, most likely. Maybe by its feathered paired: Thought."

"Right. Well, anyway. What happened next?" Edie was intrigued to know.

"Oh. One spotted me d'int they? Chased me right up Ludgate Hill. Went right past Old Bailey but lost the hell raisers. Quite thankful. Then I thought, I thought Old Bailey!"

The Clocker paused expecting them to understand, but to no providence. He looked disappointed.

"Mate, you need to explain a bit more. A lack of info for my mind to piece together," said the Gunner.

The Clocker's breathing had still not improved.

"Well I thought. Thought of it as I ran past. Then I thought that was a stroke of luck, wasn't it? Thought of law. Order. Practice. I'd been thinking, you see. Thinking all day in fact. Riddle. That line; _Just like the mice. _With all that and _part thrice_ I thought; three mice. Well they've got to be blind."

The Gunner still wasn't getting it. The Clocker rolled his eyes.

"Blind!" he repeated, as if shouting it would make his point any clearer. The ticking from his clock eye seemed to get louder as his eye bulged with a stronger pulse. "Like the saying. You know?"

"Ha!" shouted Nick, biting her lip with brisling awakening.

George looked to the Gunner, who looked at Edie and then looked back at him. Then George looked at Edie who was now also looking at him. It was like a staring competition of who could be most bland. Nick had that dangerous twinkle in her eye again. The Clocker took another breath.

"Listen. Running past Old Bailey. Looked up d'int I? Who's atop Old Bailey?"

"Lady Justice," said Nick.

"Oh," the Gunner said, followed by a longer, 'Ohhhh' as he shook his head, feeling like he ought to have caught on before.

"There's tha' ticket," said the Clocker. "Someone's listening. A'last. Lady Justice, she's blind ain't she? Well, no. Blind she is not. Blindfolded, least say. Well, usually, not technically. This version of she isn't, but general speaking alike. Old law and akin. Portrayed blindfolded as the usual liking. Like the saying; _Justice is blind._"

"Clocker that's brilliant," Edie exclaimed.

"Ha. Always a pleasure. Surely she's the roll of advice the riddle spoke of. Meet her. Maybe she tells you 'bout something important, etcetera. Something we need know to stop Stone. Don't know. But makes sense surely. Luck, fate and alike, just like the riddle tells it to you. Both to do with law, yes? Well, sorts. But other clues stronger. Riddle talks of scales, then of weapon. The Stone is a weapon, yes. Holder of the seven vice. Deadly sins as said before, but what if it had two meanings? Lady Justice, why she holds scales and a sword. And sword is weapon no doubt about it."

George let out a laugh. The Gunner put his arm around the Clocker and he humbly shrunk in on himself and put his palms up like it was no trouble.

"Always pleased. Whenever I can help is no bother. Now up to you. Seek out Justice. She can give verdict on Stone matters."

He looked at Nick who caught his eye and smiled gently at him. He looked down trying to hide the growing look of pleasure in his face. His cheeks turned rosy.

"Thank you, Clocker. Don't know what we would have done without you," George spoke.

"Ahhh. Embarras' me lad. No problem. Happy to help." He looked around the group and realised he'd injected some much needed hope. "Actually, Gunner, I was hoping to have a word…"

The Gunner followed him to an area just of the main street so they were still within eyeshot of the group, but out of earshot.

"What is it?" said the Gunner.

"Do you think Nick knows what she's doing?"

"I think she's got a better chance of knowing than the rest of us."

"I'm just worried. Even though she's on our side now. Still a part of theirs. You'll probably be wanting payback on the Walker. She's too close in his circumference and I don't want her getting treaded on. I just don't want her getting stuck in the middle."

"Whatever qualms I have with the Walker, I assure you I wouldn't put Nick in harms way just to earn vengeance. Collateral damage doesn't run in my favour and anyway, this war we're starting isn't about getting even with him. I understand you're concern, and I will do all that I can to protect her but the sorry fact is; she _is_ stuck in the middle. There's no too ways about it. All this is happening _because_ of her."

"I don't feel well."

The Clocker sat down; a much needed rest to his exhausted legs before they gave up completely. He looked over the street at Nick who was looking back but against her mind nagging, she stayed away and endured their privacy, even though she hated being kept out of the loop.

"This could end very badly," said the Clocker with his head in his hands.

"I know," the Gunner responded. "But it's Nick's only shot. And Edie's by the looks of it. I have a feeling she'd do this with or without us."

"On her own Nick'll lose hands down."

"She knows that. But it won't stop her, which is why we've got to have her back."

The Clocker made a sigh which sounded like it came from the bottom of his heart.

"You can count on me," he said earnestly.

They walked back over to the rest of the group and the Gunner spoke to them.

"The sun's setting. If the Stone is protecting itself getting servants and taints to gather round it then it thinks something's going to attack it. And that's exactly what _will_ happen. It'll be nightfall soon enough so we better get a move on. Where's that bloody lion when you need it?"

The Gunner set off down Holborn Viaduct towards the Old Bailey. George, Edie and Nick followed.

"Clocker," the Gunner called back. "I need you to make all the spits aware of what we're doing so that they are prepared if another battle breaks out."

"Right you are," the Clocker called back, watching as they parted ways.


	38. Fair

"'_When will you pay me? Say the bells of Old Bailey'; _another line from _Oranges and Lemons_" the Gunner noted.

The walk only took roughly five minutes but by the time they'd arrived the sky was already turning a darker shade of red as the last of the sun's light shone across the horizon. George hoped it would not be the last time he saw it.

Lady Justice rose into the sky on top of the dome of the Old Bailey. The gilded, bronze statue stood arms outstretched in splendour, scales in one hand and a sword pointing towards the heavens in the other. She wore a long gown that reached the floor and a pointy crown like the Statue of Liberty.

"My Lady, if you please," the Gunner stood at street level craning his neck up to see the large dome that rose above him. "My Lady?"

He paced backwards to try and get a clearer view, almost stumbling back into a hedge beyond the opposite pavement. He felt sad that just like the gold leaf spit of Justice, other statues of such marvel remained hidden on London rooftops, away from the public eye.

"OI!" Nick shouted up.

George jumped at the echo of Nick's voice and looked around wildly in case anyone spotted them, which of course they didn't- something he always made the mistake of thinking. Not a single pedestrian lifted their head or turned their eyes towards them.

"How do you reckon that's going to help?" the Gunner said facing Nick sternly.

Nick shrugged but didn't look bothered. The Gunner shook his head.

"She will not speak to you," said a close voice which made the Gunner jump.

He lowered his head and looked. The sinister sound came from an angel perched on the arched facade above the main entrance. Her head was low and cast in shadow by a large cowl. Two other spits sat besides her.

"And you are?" said the Gunner.

The angel had a scroll of parchment spread across her knees which she wrote on, not once looking up to face the Gunner as she spoke.

"I am the recording angel."

Her hand scribbled across the parchment furiously, nib barely leaving the paper, always moving without gap for thought.

"We need to speak to Justice," the Gunner said a little more assertive.

"Many question Fate but rarely find what they are looking for. But then I guess that's the point, isn't it."

"You have to believe," said the spit on the right of the angel. Truth stared unremittingly into a mirror which she held, never breaking contact with her eyes' reflection, staring so deeply into it that it was almost like she could see something the others couldn't.

"Where would we be if we had all the answers?" said the figure on the left of the angel, Fortitude, who span a sword by the hilt between his fingers of one hand, and a dove sat in the other. "Sometimes we make our own answers."

"Yes," said the Gunner, pressed for time. "That's all very well and good but we need to speak to Justice. We've come for advice. An adjudication if she will allow."

"I told you," the angel said with an impatient sigh, "she will not speak to you. What makes you think she would want to part with her precious time to bide herself in the presence of such riffraff."

"I don't like you," Nick said.

"What are you writing?" the Gunner asked a little flustered, elbowing Nick to shut her up.

"Time," said the angel.

"You're writing time?"

"And all the wishes and woes of the Children of the Poor that come with it."

She pushed down so hard onto the scroll that it looked like her hand was possessed. They could all hear the scratch of the nib on the surface which her eyes never left. The Gunner looked confused and turned back to look at Nick. She shrugged. The Gunner took a moment and tried a different angle.

"We have been led here by the foretelling inscriptions of the Book of the City. The City is in danger and the need to pass judgement on the Stone is upon us."

The angel's hand jolted as the nib missed a beat, yet she did still not raise her glance. The Gunner cocked an eyebrow as her hand hesitated above the parchment and then set back to it with even more haste. Her head dropped even lower, cowl now covering her face completely as if she wanted nothing more to do with them.

"A judgement which is long overdue."

This voice was not the deep tones from a mouth set in shadow. This new voice was light and airy, levitating on the breeze all around. They all looked up and saw Lady Justice peering down over the top of the dome at them. She took a step off and somehow impossibly floated down through the air until she landed softly on the ground besides them.

Her voice was soft but full of authority. She looked at them down her nose.

The Gunner removed his helmet and took a small bow in front of her.

"My Lady."

"I thought you wouldn't speak to us," said Nick brashly. "Got off you're golden high horse at last, eh?"

Justice looked to her for the first time and raised an eyebrow. The Gunner stood for a stunned second then grabbed Nick by the shoulder and frogmarched her back by the heels across the street. Nick's eyes shot wide open and a gasp caught in her throat. She couldn't scream at the pain because of the shock of it all, and when the Gunner realised he let her go quickly.

"Oh," he said. "Sorry I didn't realise it was your… what are you playing at?" he demanded.

"Look at her," Nick whispered in a groan and rubbed her hurt shoulder. "Thinking she's a person for the people, when she doesn't even _want_ to speak to the people."

"There's a certain way of dealing with people of her calibre."

"Well I'm not going to fawn over her like some…" She eyed him then mocked taking off an imaginary hat. "_Oh My Lady, My Lady, you're so wonderful,_"

"Nick," he gritted.

"She's spent her head too long in the clouds she knows nothing of what's happening on the streets."

"Justice has made some fine judgements over the years. She's worth more than you give her. She's made the spit world- and I dare say your world- a much safer place to be. We can't afford to mess this up now."

"This is stupid."

"How?"

"Why do we even need her? For approval? Who made her Queen of the spits? The Darkness is evil and I'll send it to hell with or without her consent."

"Because some things just gotta be done by the book. Everyone deserves a trail to be sentenced, even if they're guilty as muck. It needs to be done. For our virtuousness. Thing is, the riddle led us here. Somehow she's part of it. We need her. Now's not the time to be making enemies, don't you think you have enough of those?"

Nick locked her jaw and bit her tongue. The Gunner turned and walked back to the rest of them but Nick stayed behind.

"Apologies for the inconvenience…" said the Gunner, making another small bow which Nick rolled her eyes at. "But we believe we have the capability to bring the Stone's forces down."

"Really?" Justice sounded less than satisfied as her eyes bounded across the three small people stood tentatively behind the Gunner. Her eyes lingered unhappily longer on Nick. "You believe this is your great army? This bunch of rejects, the soldiers of London? Two children and a Stone-Servant."

Nick's mouth dropped.

"Know you can not fool or hide from me, immortal shadow …" Justice spat, noticing Nick shrinking in on herself with a stumped face of angst for Justice knowing the truth about her.

"I am a minister of Fate," said Justice, "and yours is one plagued by it more than most others."

Nick marched forward and swept her hood down from her face. The Gunner cut an arm in front of her before she could unleash soiled words from her venomous tongue.

"I've got nothing to hide," said Nick.

"Huh," tutted Fortitude from behind.

"Spoken like a true Stone follower," said Truth.

Nick glared at the pair of them. The recording angel's wrist shot out and across the paper in larger swings, practically using the nib as a dagger to stab and tear at the scroll.

"You are either lying or deluded," said Justice to Nick. "A servant's only asset is to hide the truth or to hide themselves."

"Surely someone as honourable such as your self, Justice, should not discriminate against those wishing to serve the law without a fair trial," said the Gunner with a tight jaw.

"The law? She serves nothing other than the evil of the Darkness," Justice spat.

The Gunner grumbled under his breath.

"OK, that was a bad choice of words on my part. What I meant was… nobody of a stature of yours should judge others, especially stereotype them, without the affirmation of the truth. That is the reason, of course, why you aren't blindfolded; to see the world impartially. Fair."

The Gunner tried to remain calm but couldn't keep all of the grit out of his voice. Justice took her time chewing over his words. She looked from him to Nick, then to George, Edie and back to Nick. Her head rose a little higher into the heavens when she spoke back slowly.

"Hmm, I agree. My claim was an unruling prosecution. I apologise."

"For your matter of interest, this kid…" the Gunner looked round at George, "he's one of the most courageous Master Makers I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. And Edie, she has the same brave heart and strength. She is also a Key my Lady."

Lastly he looked at Nick.

"Nick _is_ a servant, but one who's willing to fight against the Stone to deplete the force which has kept her prisoner for so long, to break the chains that hold her captive, and, well…to stop her being so bloody grumpy."

Nick creased her face into a buffalo daze which quickly turned to embarrassment, as George and Edie contained their smiles.

"She gave us information that directed us here," said the Gunner. "She risked her life for us, and we would be lost without her." He chose to look at Nick instead for the last bit and was thankful that she was looking at him too. "And I for one am happy to call her my friend."

All three of them had never heard anyone talk so highly about them. The words warmed around their hearts and they knew it would carry them forward with pride and strength into whatever battle lay ahead. Nick and the Gunner took a few seconds to read the others expression and bathed in the comfort they felt from it.

"You have held yourself in high hopes, Gunner," said Justice, hovering off the ground slightly. "I now agree that you are willing to practice the words you preach."

"So we have your agreement?"

"Others we shall see about," Justice made a play at looking to Nick to show across her point. Nick made sure she held the stare. "Play the middle before we reach the end."

Lady Justice took one last look at them before hovering above the ground and like an angel, soared back into the sky to perch steadily on top of the dome. Out of the long pocket of her gown she produced a long roll of parchment that she unfurled and held outstretched. Her strong voice sounded across the winds and carried all across the land.

"I call upon the decree of London and wish all to pay witness. The scales have fallen and the sentence has been passed that the Stone is found guilty of crimes of sin and unjust. A felony which has the right passed by this court for it to be brought down for its penalties, and the subjects of defence which will gather to put an end to this dark day will be protected by law and the word of the leaders to save the people of this great city."

The Gunner's smile reached both sides of his face as he laughed and punched the air. Edie clapped and hugged George. Nick puffed out her cheeks and rested her hands on her knees with overwhelming relief, yet a bitter sweet feeling chocked the back of her throat.

"Thank you, my Lady," the Gunner called up and bowed again.

"London shall have all its ancient rights," said Justice. "Live strong and steer good luck and good fate to win the struggle."


	39. Alert

Despite his lungs burning and his body pushed beyond all extremes, the Clocker ran. His heavily weighted waistcoat trapped all the dank, sweltry air so that he was caked with a layer of sweat which fused his shirt to his skin. He ran fast. Just one foot in front of the other. Again and again. Trying to block out the shouts from his body to stop. At first it was hidden by adrenaline, the fast kick-start and will-power gave him strength. Then the anguish and pain of his uncomfortable limbs complained and it was an effort to keep himself hidden from view. His legs whined and growled at him to give up. His heart and lungs agreed with his muscles, unable to supply them with the adequate amount of vital necessities needed to function. But his mind was superior in command. His mind forced them to work. He had a job to do. And he was going to succeed with fiery passion. If he was going to be stopped it would be by a Stone follower, going down fighting, not by his unfit body giving up on its own.

He squared onto New Bridge Street which carried him towards Blackfriar's Bridge. He thought it would be safer south of the Thames, any taints or servants would be making there way into the City. He would still have to be careful though. There might be other Tallymen around. The bad kind.

He barged through the door of Blackfriar's pub and spotted the prioriter by the bar tallying supplies. The door swung behind him and crashed against the wall, making it tilt at a crazed angle, tearing off crumbling paint and plaster in the process. Upon seeing the Clocker, the Black Friar noticed his manor and serious expression and his face dropped into a frown.

"What's wrong?" the Friar asked, bracing himself.

It was then when the Clocker tried to speak that he realised he couldn't. Performing the right moves with his tongue and mouth was too straining. His need for breathing took control and he gasped the air. He slouched over the bar and took hold of a bar pump to stabilise himself. But the pump faltered and pushed forwards, sending a spray of beer all over the bar area.

"Watch it!" cried the Friar.

The Clocker waved his hand in an apology then bent double as an excruciating nag of pain ran down his side. He placed a hand hard over his abdomen. He groaned as the effect of his exertions forced their way to the surface.

"You better take a seat," said the Friar, with one hand pulling over a barstool. His other hand was on the Clocker's shoulder, fearing his thin trembling legs may give way at any second.

"Ha," the Clocker gasped suddenly. "Watch. No pun intended. Assume?" He wretched a bottomless cough from under his Adam's apple and brought himself back to being serious. "No. No. Quite right. We need to-" was all he could manage before his eyes rolled up and his body started to fall backwards. He then lunged into a quick spasm and came upright again, determined to not let his body blink out. "We need…need…" he yelled as another wave of pain hit, "-to warn them. The s-s….spits!" He gasped and gulped the air down.

"Don't tell me…" the Friar made a heart-felt sigh, "Nick."

The Clocker looked shocked and nodded his head lightly. It made the room spin for him. The friar handed him some water and after a few minutes fighting a fit of hiccups, the Clocker regained his normal breathing and tried to explain himself. Once he'd finished, he sat like a tightly wound coil and waited anxiously for a reply.

"Well, from what you've told me, it looks like another battle is imminent. We need to seize every moment of time we have," said the Friar.

"You don't have to tell me that," the Clocker replied, tapping his finger against his pulsing clock-face eye.

"Well, quite. Aside from needing to be quick on the feet, I must say amongst everything going on that I am surprised and yet charmed that you two have put aside your differences after long last."

"By means of humblest vindication. Of own self worth. And to those you should have done right by." The Clocker looked sad as he spoke.

"You and Nick were both victims. Neither played a hand in immorality and that is the way of it. She is a willowing crust with such diamond adulation within. Or to put it another way; she is the metaphorical oyster from which her pearl heart stone nestles delicately. That steel veil she wears around herself is not without its flaws- like any human- and she feels a nightmare of liberation for the fear of getting it wrong with such ungoverned presidency, that it hurts her so. I have tried many times to lift the burden she amasses in her heart when she has sought me to console her grief. The past is the past, but for someone who lives long enough for what has already gone to still carry on with them, she feels thralled to encumber the gravity of your partition from blessed longevity as a responsibility forever weighted on her shoulders as the tax of her dues."

The Clocker rubbed his brow with deep despondency.

"Is wasn't meant to be this way."

"But it is," said the Friar. "It's reality. It's a cold, hard slap in the face where you have to face facts and look ahead so you don't get left behind. Times like now," he brought a finger to his face and pointed at his own eye.

"Right," the Clocker replied, noticing his clock eye strike the hour.

"We need a plan. A way of alerting everyone. When time stopped people knew something was wrong. But now there's no way of knowing."

"So what do we do?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking."

"Is there a chance. If by any means. To think faster?" The pulse of his eye beat became even stronger.

"What did you say to the spits you passed on you're way here?"

"I thought of a meeting place. Shakespeare's Globe. It's on the south bank, which I thought would be safer but it's not too far away from the Stone. Everyone knows where it is. It can hold a lot of people. It's also closed to the public at the moment, for refurbishment. It'll be empty. I told them to go there and tell as many others as they could. We need to get supplies, weapons. Argh."

He bowed his head, exasperated.

"Good thinking, Clocker."

"It's a start but- what the-"

The Clocker paused and listened as a great booming voice drowned out his voice and echoed around the pub, it rattled the glasses in their holders and the door shook on its damaged hinges. The Friar looked around, finding it hard to distinguish where the sound was coming from. The Clocker got off his stool and walked towards the door. He stepped outside into the darkening red-lit sky. A harsh chill stung the air. The voice was louder outside, so loud that the Clocker thought it must be carrying all over London. It was a strong, feminine voice that showed authority.

"Lady Justice," said the Friar, stepping out of the pub behind him.

"They did it," said the Clocker, "they bloody did it!" He turned sharply then frowned, bent his knees in a curtsy and bobbed his head noticing the Friar's harsh face. "Apologies." He paused to listen to the rest of Justice's speech then thought of Nick and smiled.

"There's you're answer," the Friar smiled with jolly satisfaction. "Now the spits know."

"Yes. Right. I knew she would- they. I knew _they _would,"

He cleared his throat and in his moment of jubilation, threw his arms around the Friar, tripping over his own spindly legs in the process, making the Friar literally catch him to hold him up rather than anything else. He then pulled back embarrassed but still wide eyed and joyous. He stared at nothing with a huge smile on his face. The Friar watched him and grinned, slapping his back.

"She means a lot to you."

"Hmmm?" The Clocker still seemed to be in his own trance but snapped himself back quickly. "Oh. Err…"

The Friar chuckled and saved the Clocker's bashfulness by having the next say.

"Go. You've got work to do."

"Yes. I'll-um- head to the Globe. Count numbers. Of those gathered, try to gather more. Preparation. That's key. Not all will want to fight. Not after happenings at Trafalgar Square. But more the better."

"And I shall secure this place and travel to see the Saint. We should try to safeguard the cathedral. It may come in handy to have some kind of protected shelter to go if there is a battle. Any spits I encounter on my way I shall tell to head to the Globe."

"Friar, thank you."

They shook hands and the Clocker set off again.


	40. Assembly

They had solved the clues and completed the riddle. Now all of London had been shown the verdict of the Stone's sins.

Nick's knees shook and she shrieked and felt the jab, sharper and angrier than before in her stomach. The Stone needed her at Cannon Street. Did it know about her? Had the man in the white hoody told it about her or had it worked it out from Justice? Or was this just the call of needed protection aimed at all servants?

"Go to it," the Gunner said, having just seen the jolt of rigid spasm tense up inside her joints.

"What have I done?" said Nick almost silently, as if saying it to herself.

"The right thing."

"What if it knows? I can't go back." Her jittery voice caught the attention of the others. "Don't make me go back."

"Nick," said the Gunner, softly but engagingly holding her arms with his hands and bringing her to look at him. "Think of what will happen if you _don't _go back_. _Play it cool and things be will be OK. It won't be for long."

"Fine," she responded, feeling the nerves get replaced by the dark flow of the calling inside her, pulling her towards Cannon Street. "I'll get back to my champagne lifestyle of being a servant. It's all tickety-boo in the City."

The Gunner managed to rouse a small smile.

"What about you?" said Nick.

"The Clocker should be gathering people, we'll find him and together go to the Stone. We'll meet you there. Keep a lookout."

"This is it, isn't it?" said Nick sadly.

He put a hand on her shoulder, making sure it wasn't her hurt one. They looked at each other.

"You'll be fine," he said.

"Gunner…I…er, thanks. For what you said about me back then. It means more than you know."

"We've certainly had our ups and downs, but… what I said, I meant it, friend. You may have some convincing to do with the others, but I've got your back from now on. We've not always seen eye to eye but I trust you. One hundred percent. And if you don't mind me saying, I reckon you're parents would've been proud."

He squeezed her shoulder a little tighter and she kept her smile for a moment then paused to look between George and Edie. Their faces were of mixed apprehension but they were trying to remain strong. Nick knew they were- they didn't have to pretend. Her friends. She threw them one last look of encouragement then glanced briefly back to the sound of the recording angel, still scrawling manically on the scroll. She noticed her hand trembled violently as it travelled. Whether from nerves or stress, Nick couldn't tell, but it got her wondering if the reason why she was writing so fast was because she was running out of time. What if they all were? It seemed so.

Nick left the Old Bailey.

By the time Nick reached Cannon Street Station she could already see a crowd gathering around the Stone. Taints, Tallymen, Servants; she could not see the Walker though. As she walked up, other hacks stepped out of her way like the parting of the red sea. She felt eyes on her and wanted to pull her hood up but that would be taken as a show of weakness. So she bravely scanned the ground as she walked. Some avoided her but others glared with cold barbed wire eyes, and she struggled to keep her face from going pale.

Nick reached the Stone and one servant stepped in to her way. She had to tilt her head right back to see the face towering over her. He had long hair which knotted into dreadlocks and ran wild at the sides but was strewn back into a tight ponytail at the back. It looked brown at the roots but went sandy and washed out at the tips. Beads hung from some of them. His face was relatively clean shaven except for a trimmed goatee. He had brown baggy combats and trainers. He folded his arms and his great biceps swelled. A man came up behind him who was also brawny but compared to the hippy guy looked relatively skinny. He was an albino with sky eyes and platinum hair cropped short but long enough to be styled into small spikes. He wore all thin black satin clothes which slid across each other without a single noise when he moved. His face was ghostly and menacing with prominent cheekbones and thin lips which turned white as he smirked.

"Long time, Shadow," said the hippy, whose name Nick remembered as Conan, once leader of Scraplot. His voice now sounded gruff with a Midlands twang.

"Not long enough," said Nick.

"Hear that, Blaise? She's not lost her grit."

The albino grunted in reply.

Where as the hippy had four scars slashing the full length of his face at different angels, the albino had just one running down both of his lips, making them pink and puffy, pulling them into a grotesque, slanted smirk.

As Nick looked at Conan her eyes spent too long examining the cuts and he stepped up and arched over the top of her even more.

"Had a good enough look?" Conan flared. "This is what you did to me. Time doesn't heal all wounds, including my want of revenge. I hope you're not squeamish because you're life's not going to run so smoothly now I'm back in town."

Feeling undeterred, Nick took another step forward but Conan didn't budge.

"I didn't do anything," she said forcefully.

"Oh, but you did, really, when you think about it."

_Surely the Walker wasn't going to leave her alone with these psychopaths? _She paused at the thought. The Walker, Nick suddenly realised. Of course. She knew she recognised those blade marks.

Conan's hands came at her. Nick acted quick and knocked them aside and shoved the full force of her outstretched arms against his chest. But it was only enough to send him back a small step. She whipped her hand into her pocket and got out the knife that the Queen's daughters found. She held it pointing to his throat and they eyed each other intently. Something flickered in Conan's eyes when he saw it. It was only for a second but Nick caught it, and it was something strange. Maybe it was a wince of pain, reminding him of when his scars were made. Nick couldn't help think it was something else. Something bigger.

Conan's body juddered. His face pulled into a frown and his fist curled into a tight ball. He took a step to the side and Nick felt the pull of the stone in her stomach as well. Conan shrank back to let her pass. She jutted her chin out at him when she sidestepped around him.

"You better watch you're back," Conan said over his shoulder as Nick walked on behind him. She didn't say anything.

Blaise grunted again.

Nick put the knife back in her pocket and crouched by the Stone, answered the call, then released her hands from between the iron grill and walked away without saying anything. She turned up her hood and made sure she locked eyes at Conan again when she left but he didn't follow.

She joined the other side of the rank of servants and waited nervously. Nick found it hard not to worry, had she misjudged the Stone's power?

000000

Two small specks of light gleamed in the darkness above Cannon Street. Nestled in between one of the silver, diamond pillars of the criss-crossed, steel lattice on a tall building opposite the London Stone, the black beady eyes of the Raven went unnoticed as it surveyed the growing restlessness and suspense of the Stone followers below. The rift between sides was stripping away the fine thread holding their rivalry loosely in place. The uneasy sensation that things were going to commence very soon was drifting from person to person.

The Raven ruffled its feathers into a great plumage to trap the air beneath its wings in an attempt to take the edge off the cold. In the slightest way possible, it felt unfortunate that it didn't have the Walker's hood to coddle into as shelter anymore. There was always the girl's hood, the girl who had now appeared at the foot of the building and whose bleak silhouette the Raven's eyes now followed. Too bad she nearly always had the hood turned up. The Raven saw her stooped behind the shadow of her hair casting over her face, her hands disappearing into pockets, her feet rocking ready at the heels. The bird knew Nick was as much a captive to the Walker as it itself used to be. A dangerous honey treasure, considered more as a prize than anything else. But even though the bird had captured and stored all the awareness of all its life and others in its expanding mind, human behaviour had a hidden depth to it. It was something so much more evolved and unpredictable that the Raven couldn't always evaluate it.

The girl was incarcerated against her own soul, confined to slavery till the end of days. Despite the grave and regrettably sad circumstances which cultivated the corrupt nurture of her life, she had always had the generous capacity of care and stewardship towards the bird. Maybe she saw it as some therapeutic source of recovery or atonement. Maybe she valued the deliverance of liberation she witnessed when it took flight. Whatever it was about her, she was always a favourable choice when seeking safe comfort.

Unfortunately she was now in great danger.

The Raven had seen the way the world shaped over time. Had seen the ins and outs and roundabouts of occurrences leading the revolving effect to progress or destruction. What would be surprising to some- but not the Raven- was that history repeated it self more often than would be thought, and so the impending war could be judged as just another cycle in the ever orbiting circus of the course of time. But the Raven knew better. The Raven knew because it could remember. Some things could not be changed, because trying to change it would be the reason for its own happening. Glints knew this all too well. But like all things, even a small, symbiotic factor could be the only thing needed to upset the balance of certainty, and to play with the chance of randomness. And it was exactly because of the broad, unbalanced affairs of human behaviour that change could occur. It knew so when the Glint had gone to the small and seemingly insignificant effort of breaking the red thread around its neck. Certain factors, everything down to a single decision, could break the loop at any time. And things would play out so much more fun for the bird that had all the time in the world.

It ruffled its feathers once more and continued to watch the scene below.


	41. Spy

The Clocker entered Shakespeare's Globe. The three-storey, open-air amphitheatre stood marvelling in its own beauty. It would have been a majestic sight it if were not for the scaffolding, waterproof liners and yellow and black tape that twisted and ensnared around it. He could just about see though a gap in the covering sheet to the sky. It was dark now. The stars were shining brightly. No cloud or wind yet air of ice. The English-oak beams and thatched roof authentically replicated the seventeenth century. He looked at the roof warily and once again thought of Nick, then the fire, and then something else but he became distracted from his own thoughts when he heard chattering. There were people here. Not tourists. Spits. A gather of them, at least thirty. One of them he had seen earlier came up to him and told him that more were on their way. They had done an impressive amount of work already. A small group were sharpening swords and spears. Some had gathered boxes of ammo. He puffed out his cheeks and got to work unloading some crates from a cart.

He was there for roughly fifteen minutes and all the while, more and more spits entered. The pit was getting quite full. He looked towards the door and just happened to catch the sight of a girl with aubergine locks near the bottom of the steps.

"Edie!" he called over to her.

She noticed and jogged up to meet him.

"Hey," she breathed. "We've been looking for you. We heard that spits were gathering here. Did you hear Justice?"

"Yes. We all did."

"Did you do all this, make everyone meet here? I've gotta say, I'm impressed."

At that moment they were joined by George and the Gunner. The Clocker immediately noticed who was missing. Edie saw him looking over her shoulder towards the door.

"She had to go back to the Stone," she said sadly.

"Oh," he said nervously. His eyes dropped to the floor and he took back to counting the beads on the length of string he now grasped a lot tighter in his hand.

The Gunner stepped forward.

"She'll be okay. She's a tough pip, that girl." The Clocker smiled anxiously as the Gunner carried on. "We'll try and get a message to her. Where's the bloody Raven when you need it? What we've got to worry about now are the people here, they don't know what's going on. Someone needs to tell it to them straight," the Gunner prompted. "We lost too many good spits at T-Square last weekend and as much as I want people to fight with us, they need to know that it's not going to be some picnic in the park."

"Right," said the Clocker, pausing to let the Gunner continue but when he didn't, became increasingly perplexed and uncomfortable. "Wait, what? You want _me_ to say something?"

"You got people here. You got all this stuff together. Besides, you're human."

"Why's that important?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you'd figure out your own reason."

"Oh."

"Well, you know. You're flesh and blood. Everything we're made to represent, only you're the real thing…"

"Not been close to human for long time, Gunner. More machine. Rusty one at that."

"Nah, that heart inside of you is still true, and it'll keep beating no matter how bad your mind thinks things have got. Just remember that. Never give up 'cus your heart is willing to fight."

"A better human you'd make than my old self."

"Saying it is one thing. Living it is another. You've gotta find the strength to do both. And I know you can."

The Gunner chuckled nervously. The Clocker felt the rhythm of his clock eye pulse. Time was ticking away and the longer he stalled here, the more time Nick had to spend alone with the Stone. He practically leapt onto the stage.

"Right. Listen up!"

The hum of chattering instantly died down and all eyes turned to face him. He smiled sheepishly and did a nervous bob. He tried to stay calm but felt paranoid and frenzied, out in the open on the stage above everyone. He could hear the rattling from all the ornaments attached to his jacket jangling together due to his nervous body shaking. He wished he had his specs with the blue lenses to cover his clock-eye. He didn't like people staring at it. He could tell they became uncomfortable when they did. And in turn, so did he.

"All heard Justice's declaration. Some confusion circling about meaning. What it entails. Etcetera. Brutal was the war between spits and taints last week. Even though our side won all hoped would never see anything like that again. Not for long time. Though is inevitable. I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you. Another battle stirring. Friends have located part of the Book of the City. Have planned way that might bring about end of Stone."

He paused to survey the crowd. Various whispers erupted at the mention of the Book and of the Stone. All eyes had widened and now everyone was looking back at the Clocker for more information. He wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead.

"We also have a Key."

His eyes fell on Edie and this time, there was even more chattering, a big buzz swept the acoustics of the round stage with nervous and anticipated voices. Some were confused but some clearly knew the implication of such a happening. Edie blushed as she realised people were staring at her. The Clocker had to put a hand in the air and call for more silence.

"We need you're help. As some have noticed, taints and servants been recalled by Stone. It wants protecting. Meaning it's worried. Which means it must have a weakness. I believe we can stop it."

There was a mixed response. Some were nodding their heads, some clapped. Others covered their open mouths with their hands.

"Any of you willing to fight, come with me."

The Clocker led a group to one side to start planning attack modes and tactics. Not that he was any good at all that. He wasn't a soldier. He wasn't like the Gunner or the Officer. He wasn't a leader- he tried to avoid fighting at all costs. But he knew he would fight for this cause. They all had a very big problem on their hands. But he'd missed the battle at Trafalgar Square trying to find the Queen of Time. That was his problem.

The time.

Right now it was everyone's problem. It was coming up to the turn of day and he knew they couldn't fight yet, the spits had to get back to their plinths. That only gave more time for the servants to gather, and more time for Nick to be found out. He shook his head and checked his clockwatch.

0000000000000

"I'm going to Cannon Street," said George.

"You can't. It's too dangerous," said the Gunner showing great concern. "Wait until after turn o'day. We'll go together."

"Time's ticking away. Let me go and I could scout the place. Get a low down on the perimeter. Find out what streets are most protected, and which aren't, if any. I won't make a scene. I'll keep to the shadows, watch from a distance. I want to make sure Nick's okay. You heard what she said; about what the Stone wants her to do." George whispered the last part.

"Okay," the Gunner replied unenthusiastically. "But take someone with you."

"No, the more people, the higher chance of getting caught. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

The Gunner still didn't like the plan, but he had to admit he was worried about Nick being there on her own. The Stone might have found out she was double-crossing it. He couldn't imagine what it would do to her then.

"Alright," the Gunner said bleakly. "But be careful. And lucky."

George went to say goodbye to Edie who wanted to go with him, but he told her to stay. She reluctantly agreed. He passed the Clocker on his way out;

"-some can go straight from Millennium Bridge to St Pauls and set up. The fighters can go from Southwark Bridge and head north," the Clocker was saying to the group, before catching George's eye and sharing a passing nod with him.

George left the Globe alone and headed for Cannon Street.


	42. Brute

The double agent was tense standing amongst all the Stone followers who would be willing to sacrifice themselves for the Stone's cause. Evening had turned to night and night had turned even more dark and sinister without warning. There was a clear sky, the stars were bright. But it was cold. Freezing. Nick was rigid with nerves and shivering in the cold. Her teeth were clattering. Her curse may help heal wounds, but it did nothing to keep the wamth in. She looked around at the Servants around her and was reminded of the saying; _'you don't have to be crazy to work here, but it helps.'_

She couldn't feel her lips. She couldn't remember the last time she ate, and she felt sick because of it. Or was it the nerves? Who cared? Either way it was getting to her, and took her mind off the more important things. She needed to stop it. Stop getting distracted. Just stop. The jab in her stomach had become a constant numbing sensation. She felt the Stone's angst as clearly as her own.

It must have been in the early hours of the morning now and still there had been no sign of any spits or even any pedestrians. Nick had realised the spits would have chosen to stay away before the turn of day in case anything went wrong. The taints had gone for a while too but now they had returned and time was dragging on and the anticipation of an upcoming event was digging away at her inside.

But what would happen when they did arrive? _If _they arrived. How would Nick play it out? Should she stay undercover till the last opportunity? Would the spits know she was on their side? If they did, what if they protected her and the other servants got suspicious? If they didn't, would they try to kill her?

Question, questions, questions.

Nick knew there was no point thinking. Her mind was too numb from the cold to think logically.

She felt another sharp jab from her stomach; the pull was so strong that it yanked her sideways. She crashed into the side of a taint she did not recognise. Not from London. It had large wings that bent around in a sharp angle along it's back, a sharp claw at the peak of them. Its head was a grotesque clash between dog and chimp. It's teeth were long, pointed carvers. Its stone body was rough and serrated; the spine of the brute jutted out like it was trying to break free from the thin layer of scales covering it. It hunched down on two bulk muscle legs. Nick's hands were hurled onto it as she fell and without warning she felt the energy drain from her body. It passed along through her finger tips and spread across the scales of the brute. Nick cried out in pain as she tried to release her hands from it.

Unable to control it herself anymore, the Stone was forcing the energy out of her and transferring it to the taint. This is what it had always planned, why it had given the power to her. It wanted living taints.

A light from the centre of the foul animal shone brightly. Nick grabbed back with her hands and they were released, but it was already too late. Much too late. The taint began to change form. It now possessed a broken spirit; the Brute was never created with any love or sense of pride or honour. Like all taints were- so very different from the spits. It was built to repulse and scare, to warn and frighten trespassers, to be evil. Now its scales were wet and slimy, its fur on its legs was real hair, its eyes were watery. A great howl erupted from its twisted soul towards the sky as it shrieked and flapped its wings, experiencing and revelling its new leash of life. Nick's vision rocked and her ankle gave way to one side. Her eyes fluttered and she collapsed to the floor.

The Brute was alive.


	43. Approach

Is this what Nick was? A battery? A giant energy outlet to unleash the trapped forces within stone? She felt sick.

When she'd come out of unconsciousness she'd tried to place her hands on the Brute again, trying to reverse the C'hi- if that were even possible- but it had swiped at her until she backed down. She knew it wouldn't let her anywhere near it. She highly doubted the Stone would give her such power to reverse it anyway. It wanted its living army to be permanent.

Soon after she'd come back round the Stone had sent her on a perimeter scout to regain the vital energy she would need before the next conversion. She wondered how many time she could do it before all her energy was sapped, before she was just an empty shell. Skin and bone and no soul.

As the Walker had still not shown up, Nick couldn't believe her luck when she saw who she'd been chaperoned with…

"It's quiet," said Nick.

"Is right Judy," said Wirral. "Deathly quiet during turn o'day."

His impending voice trying to stay low but his sharp yelps did nothing except draw attention. But she noticed he tried to suppress them, and they ended up looking like a heavy pressured hiccup that made his body tense up. He'd returned to London unwillingly, but he was in no state to fight back against the Stone. Still, Nick thought he could still be useful to her.

"It's way past that now," she said whilst walking down Queen Street, craning her eyes up, trying to not make it noticeable that she was eye-balling the dark movements in shadows of hideous taints lying waiting in the dark, hidden ledges and roof corners above them.

If the taints were back now, then where were the spits?

The time dragging on and the anticipation of an upcoming event were both digging away at her inside.

"What are you planning?" asked Wirral, in a tone Nick knew. A voice that understood her rebellion, who felt her pain.

"A mutiny," she replied and took a breath. "Freedom for some. Condemnation for others." She thought of the Brute and felt sick again. "Can you help us?"

She knew confiding with a fellow Servant was dangerous, but this was Wirral and she hoped she knew him as well as she thought. He pondered the question, and bit his bottom lip.

"Wouldn't 'av anything to do with these 'ere taints, would it?" he replied with uncertainty.

"I need a distraction," Nick almost pleaded.

She understood the penalty for betraying the Stone, and knew the risk he would be taking if he accepted and she'd never forgive herself if he got caught, but this was the only way.

"These taints won't budge for me," Wirral said sounding feeble minded. "But if you pulled your rank…"

"You know what I'm thinking?"

"Good luck, Judy."

For a second Nick almost forgot about him, but she caught his wink and managed to whisper _'thank you'_ as he walked slowly towards the end of the street with his hood of his jacket pulled low over his head. He turned a corner and Nick was alone for a while. For a few minutes she nervously pondered his credibility, and wondered if a gang of Servants were about to come and bring her to justice.

_Crassssshhhhh._

The impact blasted the quietness and Nick jumped. Then a few taints lurched off their buildings, hitting the floor and crunching the tarmac under their heavy landings. They looked around and a few hung back, uncertain about what to do. Nick realised a few were looking at her.

A figure appeared around a corner, hitting a long metal pole on the corner of the buildings, fracturing the air with loud metallic pings. Even thought Nick was some distance away, it hurts her ears, the sound reverberating through the silence.

"Don't just stand there!" Nick yelled.

At her command the taints shot forward after the man who started running away. Before he turned the corner Nick saw his shadow judder up and heard a yelp. Every last taint took to the uproar and Nick sent a silent prayer to help Wirral escape their attack. She hoped he was a fast runner, even though her mind told her the contrary.

Nick waited a few minutes, stretching her ears until the taints could no longer be heard in the distance. She was fairly sure she was alone now. And the cold seemed to want to wrap around her as the only living thing in the vicinity. Her mind recoiled to the thought of the Brute, and with the lack of sleep, food or water to sway her concentration, she could not avoid the sickly feeling rising in her throat again or the nag of the Stone drumming the Darkness into her heart.

She prayed the spits would not let her down.

She didn't believe in miracles, but the very thought of spits seemed to summon one. At the end of the street a large golden bird flew low in the shadows. Nick recognised it as the eagle from the Royal Air Force Memorial. It was a majestic sight; it glided through the air barely needing to move its wings as it caught the air underneath its great plumage. It perched on a street light above Nick's head and dropped a small piece of paper with a small '_keeahh_' sound. Nick bent and picked it up, it read;

'_Approaching from Upper Thames St. G.'_

Nick shook her head. Another limited memo. At least she knew they were coming from the South, but Upper Thames Street ran almost parallel to Cannon Street and they could use many streets to gain access. Nick needed to know which one otherwise they could be ambushed. She hurried to the end of Queen's Street which led on to Upper Thames. Looking left and right she couldn't see anyone except a couple of random pedestrians getting to their small flat after a late night drinking. One man was standing at a door scratching a small key against the wooden panels, swaying violently as he tried to fit it into the lock. The girl he was with was causing a fuss trying to pull the key from his hands but he was shouting back and was adamant to do it himself.

Nick slapped herself.

She mustn't get distracted.

The cold air was biting into her skin and she could barely stand. All the energy had been absorbed out of her and was being used to fuel the angry Brute near the Stone. Her mind was wandering off somewhere, it felt high above her. Every time she reeled it back was more difficult than the last. Her breathing seemed to sound a mile away.

Her thoughts- which had been throwing instructions in a haywire of confusion all day- now were obsolete. Still, silent, gone. In one way it helped, because she was exhausted and didn't want any rising panic to overcome her. Instead this sedated feeling seemed to settle her, even in a bad way. She knew it was bad, because it was like when she got pins and needles, and there was always a wistful pointer on the edge on her conscious that told her to move, even though it hurt less when she was still. But some part of her knew she would eventually have to move, and the pain would be worse the longer she left it.

Just like now, she had to do something. She had to try and think, even if it went against everything she wanted to do. Before it was too late.

This time the cold air seemed to slap her, when she breathed in heavily without her acknowledging it, and her lungs almost froze.

She jumped when her eyes spotted a movement on the floor but she came to realise it was only her shadow.

A weird thing, a shadow. It's like a physical form of your own conscious; the imprint of a dark soul on display for all to see. And it moves like you move. Does what you do. Only, it can't be hurt or stopped. You can't catch a shadow. When there was a danger Nick couldn't fight, she ran. Ran like the wind and never stopped. The only problem is; you can't outrun your shadow. Usually it's one step ahead or otherwise close behind.

Not unless you switch off the light.

Nick looked around and saw she had four of them. Stretching out far larger than herself. Outnumbered.

She turned to run and her body rocked to a blinding halt when in front of her stood a hare. Nick blinked and remained motionless as her brain tried to figure out what she was seeing. She stayed still for a drawn out pause and then the hare moved slowly and hopped a few paces past her field of vision. Nick's brow ceased with uncertainty and she remained staring at the spot the hare had moved from rather than following it, not being able to process the movement to where it was heading. After what seemed like ages she turned but could see nothing of the hare, just an empty street.

She shook herself again.

"You're losing it."

Nick heard her own voice say it, but she hardly recognised the voice. It was dreamy but on the sharp edge, skittish.

A strong pull of wind whistled over her head and snapped her mind back. She looked and the eagle had taken flight again, continuing forward where she was facing on to Southwark Bridge. Nick saw a couple of people standing there, a couple she recognised even in the dim light. She tried to run as fast as she could but her legs didn't have the strength. It was a struggle reaching the bridge and she felt like collapsing right there on the spot. She looked across and noticed she now only had one shadow, equally running side by side.

"Edie" said Nick as she came to the bridge. Her words were quiet and slurred. Her feet made balance difficult and she back-traced the last few of her steps.

"Thank goodness you're OK. Ready to kick some servant butt? Where the offence is, let the great axe fall, and all that?"

Nick took a hurried breath as the world spun around her.

"Edie," the Gunner said brazenly as he overheard from a group of spits gathered a bit further back. "As much as I'm glad you've been getting an education into Shakespeare from our war planning, this isn't about settling a score. When people want an eye for an eye, then usually end up being blinded themselves. What we're trying to do is free this world from a great chain of oppression and torment. Stop a play at world domination. It's a bit of a Herculean task when I say it like that, I know, but them're the facts."

He then noticed Nick's wide eyes and jelly-like legs, hastily retreating backwards as if there was something they couldn't see creeping towards her. The Gunner rushed and grabbed her hand.

"No," said Nick.

Her eyes had trouble finding the Gunner's face. Still handing her he pulled out his canteen with his spare hand and held it to her iced lips.

"Drink."

Nick swallowed the water like how you would imagine somehow trying to swallow an orange whole would.

"Nick, listen to me," the Gunner tried to get through to her. "You're cold and dehydrated but try to understand: the Stone will have more constraint on you if you don't have a steel mind. Don't let it in. Whatever happens, you are not the Walker. That's not who you are."

A bubble of spit rested on her bottom lip and what appeared to be a sob palpated through her chest.

"Who I was meant to be died the night of the Great Fire," Nick said flatly. "I'm a remnant of my former self. An imprint. The ruins and embers of a burned soul."

Her eyelids flickered closed and the Gunner shook her awake.

"Don't believe that. I won't let you. In the holy well you stood up for me against the ghost armour. What soulless person would do that? Whatever trap the Stone is laying in your head right now, don't put yourself in it. You're stronger than that."

Nick looked at him placidly and for a moment the real her shone through those lost eyes.

"How many for- are- you there?" she stuttered.

Nick staggered back a pace and the Gunner almost lost grip. Edie had to dart forward and hold her from collapsing. Nick arm was raw with a piercing chill and when Edie grabbed it. Nick's head fell back.

"Nick?" said the Gunner.

"Look at the stars…" Nick whispered under her breath with glazed eyes wiped with a vacant expression. Her mind was far off. Her head tilted as she stared into space. "Out there. Never ending. It's proof, proof that there is such a thing as freedom."

The Gunner shared a troubled look with Edie. As Nick started to dip towards the ground he tried to steady her but she shrugged them both away.

"I'm fine" Nick lied, understanding she was falling away at the seams, coming undone, but not wanting to believe it. She couldn't face telling them about the Brute. She put both hands on her head and breathed heavily for a few moments, letting the air do its job around her body, letting her mind catch the strays of lost thoughts and bring her body back to normal.

"How m-many spits are joining us?"

The sentence was a struggle to convey and it took her everything to find the right words in a rapid of jumbled language.

"Quite a lot" said Edie.

She looked at Nick, concerned that her focus was wavering. Her eyes were glossed and blank and she wondered whether she was losing it.

"We got sent the word that a few spits from Kent and Essex have heard what was happening and they should be coming."

"They won't be here in time. It has to happen tonight. As we speak, many taints are also on their way to London, the Stone has called for them. When they arrive, we'll never be able to get through the defences. It's now or never, and never is a very long time for me."

"Okay then, have you got a plan?"

Nick shook herself and rallied her thoughts to concentrate.

"I'm the only one watching Queen Street at the moment, you can use that to get to Cannon Street but from there it's anyone's guess. They're all surrounding the Stone. But it's as good a place as any to start."

"Good work" the Gunner said. "We've got the boy from the Quadriga on top of the Monument to warn us if there's a second wave from the sky. Then there's Nelson to the West. Other spits are gathering in St Pauls trying to secure the place."

"Good. Where's George?" Nick said, suddenly noticing him missing.

Edie and the Gunner shared a nervous look.

"He ran off. He went looking for you" said the Gunner as he took out a packet from his pocket and lit up a cigarette. Nick could clearly see the angst he was trying to vent. The Gunner then put a hand to his head and said; "Two kids in the twenty-first century and neither one has a mobile on them. Why I never…"

"Right. Okay. Don't worry, I'll find him," said Nick. "Be careful when on crossroads as there may be other servants on patrol down other streets. I'll go back via Dowgate Hill."

The Gunner nodded to her, said good luck then clicked his fingers over to the crowd and a group of spits gathered together and scurried into a uniform pattern, ducking down to be concealed by the wall of the bridge.

"Edie," said the Gunner, pointing with his chin to the group. She walked over to the group and gave them a talk about what the plan was. Meanwhile the Gunner stayed besides Nick alone, and she felt his anxious stare on her but didn't want to say it was making her feel uncomfortable.

"Don't you know smoking's bad for you?" said Nick finally breaking the tension, smiling but close to tears as she watched the Gunner's large exhale of smoke waver up into the sky. Free.

"Ugh, there are slightly more pressing matters at hand here, don't you think, love? But I'm sure it would be if I had any lungs" he winked back at her.

"You know, I thought you were going to be the hardest one to win over, but instead, I think you're the only one who really believes in me."

The Gunner took a heavy breath like everything made perfect sense and stooped down, sitting on the wall of the bridge to make him more at eye level.

"The kids are remarkably powerful but can't help but feel they're in over their heads. They don't wanna feel vulnerable so they'll shut people out because it's what they're used to doing to feel independent. They might make wrong decisions out of fear, which is why they need guidance. They will fight for you, but they just might not let you know that's what they're doing. Give them time."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because that description I just gave them, that could apply to you as well. You see, when I first met them, especially Edie, my guts told me they were bad company. Wanted them to leave me alone. They had too much of a stigma attached to them because of the prejudices about what they were. Thank God they had the nerve to stick around me, eh? Look what we've found in each other. I've learned not to judge people if I can help it and that's why I will stand for you."

He gave a last wavering look at the ambivalent Nick, who tried to maintain down-playing the situation.

"S'all right you know, to be scared," he admitted. "It's a good thing."

"I'm not scared" snapped Nick quickly on instinct. She'd said it before her mind could properly catch up, and knew her eyes were betraying her in that moment.

She turned her head far up into the sky, not being able to look at him, her eyes following the Gunner's smoke into space.

"Believe me…" the Gunner came close so that only she could hear, "those stars won't always seem that far away, you'll see."

He pushed her chin in a slow-mo punch of his fist. Nick's eyes glowed with reignited warmth and she threw her arms around him. Shocked at her display of affection, the Gunner froze, but then loosened up and hugged her back.

"Now don't start going all sentimental on me, missy. You don't want me blubbing like a bear."

Nick pushed away and the shadow of a smile passed across her face.

"Nick," Edie shouted, coming towards them. "I'm coming with you."

Nick was about to argue but Edie cut her off.

"Whatever happens, I'm a Key, right? It's got to be down to me. Dowgate Hill is the closest way to the Stone and that's where I'm needed."

Nick looked at the Gunner who shrugged his shoulders.

"It's you're call," he said before going to join his group over the bridge.

Nick thought about it. She wondered if the Gunner was testing her to see if she'd keep her promise about protecting Edie. Or maybe he'd just gotten to the point where he did actually trust her. He said he did earlier. But how was she to be sure he was telling the truth? Maybe he was scared. And maybe this was her chance to prove herself. Nick eventually agreed despite her own doubts. She nodded at Edie and the two of them moved on very slowly.

Edie's heart stone was useless when Nick was with her. She didn't like being unaware. Nick stayed ahead looking round corners first so she could warn Edie if there were any Stone followers about. They walked in silence except the jitter of their cold breaths and the soft crunching of their feet treading the ground, both of which sounded like the noisiest things in the world to them. As Nick paced forward, her mind became numb by the piercing cold yet again and detached itself from the body, floating way above her. All her thoughts were blurred and bleary. Then the reality would swoop down on her in spikes and she had little jags of panic between the drunken idleness. She was glad she was leading so Edie couldn't see her face. It showed a nagging expression of someone caught in a dire situation, unable to make a clear decision and unable to see what any route would lead to. Nick was not used to dealing with all the emotions passing through her at the same moment. It struck her that she cared more about Edie's prospect than her own and it was a surprise to Nick to admit the truth that she would do anything to keep her safe. She was so used to only thinking about herself, only doing things for her own good, that suddenly caring about someone else gave her the chills of failure. It was a complicated feeling, but not one she hadn't felt before.

Nick's instincts realised something had changed before her mind could pinpoint what it was. She stopped and just waited for a second, afraid that any move could change things. Then she realised; she couldn't hear Edie anymore. Nick revolved slowly, trying to erase the flooding panic of what would happen if Edie was not behind her. But when she looked, Edie was there, a few yards back, just standing. Nick's mouth opened but nothing came. Edie just stared back, her face almost blank but a range of emotions showed promise for purpose on her eyes. Whatever Edie was thinking, it was a setback Nick would rather not face.

"Monitoring and surveillance…" said Edie in a monotone voice.

"What?" said Nick. Edie's statement had baffled her for a second, but even as she said the reply she'd realised what Edie was getting at. She prepared for the inevitable.

"You said that's what you did."

Nick nodded lightly but didn't reply. Edie paused, wondering about where she was going to take this.

"Just say it," said Nick quietly and in a tone of acceptance that Edie didn't like.

"You know what I'm going to say?" Edie asked.

"I'm surprised it's taken this long."

After everything Nick had told Edie about herself it was obvious that Edie would wonder about it soon enough.

"Fine," Edie held a longer wait, wondering if all this was necessary now, right when they were in the thick of it. But she also knew that if things went badly tonight it might be the only chance. "You said you found Glints for the Walker."

"Yes."

"Was my Mum one of them?"

Nick suddenly had a nagging feeling that she couldn't put a finger on. It was like a paranoia that she'd always felt. Like someone else was watching. It was the same feeling she had before she noticed the man in the white hoody back at Trafalgar Square and before the floating knights attacked them at the congruence. She wondered if this was something to do with the curse. The Walker had once told her that when he was first made a servant the endless happening of unrest bestowed upon him almost killed him from exhaustion. But it got better with time once he let the darkness in a bit. Nick didn't want to do this. The power she thought she had, it would get better if she let the darkness eat away at her soul a little more. Maybe then she would be able to notice spies or eavesdroppers at a heartbeat. Maybe then she would be able to hide from anyone and make them forget in a pin drop. Even hide from the Walker. Then she would truly be the Shadow. But she could never let this happen. Letting the darkness in was an invitation for corruption. She would start to get hungry for more, become power mad like the Walker, and eventually lose herself.

Nick inhaled and looked around the surroundings, trying not to let her guard down. As she looked the corner of her eye caught a brief shadow pass across the distant light near the corner of a nearby building. Was she right? She stared at the area hard trying to focus, but whatever had been there moments before she'd missed it. She couldn't tell anymore if it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

She looked back at Edie and assessed her eyes, trying to figure out what she wanted to hear and how she would react to hearing it_. __They will fight for you, but they just might not let you know that's what they're doing._ Nick hoped the Gunner was right. Maybe Edie would only fight if she knew the truth about this. Edie noticed Nick shake her head lightly, a gesture she took as a show of hassle rather than as a denial.

"What does it matter? Either way it's done," Nick replied.

"What matters is the principle."

"Principles won't get things done. Actions get things done. I'm not asking you to trust me, I'm not even asking you to believe me. You've got to decide whether you can work with me, now, no matter what. Can you do that?"

"It's a simple question-"

"No I didn't... I don't know who you're Mum is."

"_Was_," Edie blurted.

Edie's eyes scrunched up as she scrutinised Nick's expression. Nick remained blank for a second then became noticeably frustrated at Edie's prolonged silence.

"See!" Nick tried to keep her whisper below a loud voice. "What does it matter? You don't believe me anyway. What's the point? Now we're just wasting time and are no further to getting along."

Edie didn't let go of her stance.

"I didn't want to show you this," Nick grunted angrily.

Nick's hand went to her neck and took off the rope necklace she was wearing. Edie noticed for the first time the small spherical stone with a hole in the middle hanging off it. Nick savagely thrust her hand out at arms length with the stone dangling beneath.

"This stone has been with me for years. I might have an abnormal life span but my mind is that of an ordinary human. It can't remember everything. I made this stone so it would store the memories I would have eventually come to forget as time passed me by. You don't believe me? Here's your evidence. Glint it."

Edie's eyes widened and she felt her feet shuffle forwards by there own accord. She thought about the stone the Walker wore on his chocker and knew it was very likely that Nick would also have a stone that they could use to recall the past if they needed it. She could certainly feel the pull from it. But to glint it would betray the trust she had for Nick- if there was any. She knew Nick didn't think there was.

"If that's true," said Edie, "then why go through everything trying to convince us where as I could have glinted it from the start and known?"

Nick didn't wait long to reply.

"The truth is in here. There's evidence to prove me innocent. But then there are worse things. Things I wouldn't want to subject you to. Bad things. They would hurt you, and show you how I'm guilty of so much more."

Nick paused a moment and looked up at the sky nonplussed, not really caring if Edie was still listening.

"No one wants to lose their memories, but there are always some that people would rather not remember. I thought that saving them in stone would release the pressure I felt of keeping those bad times inside me, like a burden, bottling up. I didn't feel like I had to keep reminding myself about them, instead I could let them fade away in my conscious. And if ever there was a time when for whatever reason I did need them, I would know where to look." She shook the string and the stone bobbed up and down. "You want to know what the truth is though? I find it's the bad ones that I can never really forget. They never fade. They're here. Always." She tapped the side of her head with her finger. "They won't go away. And it's the good memories I forget and they're now trapped in this stupid ball and I don't even have the power to glint them!"

Edie looked abashed but she couldn't help the way she felt. She didn't believe Nick was bluffing about the bad stuff she would feel if she glinted it. She could sense its dark pull.

"Put the stone away, Nick," Edie said with force.

Nick felt the tension and relaxed her shoulders. She tucked the string loop back under her hoody and brought her voice back to normal with a touch of sympathy and said slowly;

"As a glint you know that the past can not be changed, no matter how much you do to try…"

Edie tried to block out Nick's words and stop herself from remembering the Frost Fair, the beach shack, the roof of the asylum, and all her other bad memories, but found her memory pulling her back to those places anyway. Trying to forget about it only made it come to her mind more clearly. Nick looked down and sniffled.

"The Walker has killed many people. Some of them glints. Some of them were ones that I found for him. I won't deny it. Call me a coward as others would rather sacrifice themselves rather than betray one of their own. But I wasn't a glint anymore. He made me well aware of that. Once a sacrifice is over, it's over. You're dead. Well not me. I knew it would make no difference and it wouldn't be heroic. It would just cause me never ending pain. I drifted through a lot of my years as something I didn't know. Something that had no morals. I caused a lot of suffering. But then one day I found out about the law. Started asking too many questions and the Walker got suspicious. Instead he got me doing under-cover work on other servants, seeing if they were doing their duties. Grassing them in if they weren't. All so he could get the Stone's highest priority of power. I've not found a glint for the Walker for over fifty years. Finding them became harder anyway. Most of the words you follow would be whispers and only lead to running in circles. I was glad when he made me stop. But one day, he locked me away. Said he was leaving for a few days and came back in a foul mood. He didn't talk about it, but his clothes smelt of damp salt and there were grains of sand embedded in his pockets when I checked them for clues. There was also a piece of sea glass. Blue. Fashioned into an earring."

Edie's face creased into a frown.

"If that means anything to you then I'm sorry," said Nick. "Since that time, you have been the only other glint I've heard about and I can put two and two together. But I told you, Edie, I hadn't even heard of you until my travels, hearing stories about the battle of Trafalgar Square."

"Oh," was all Edie could reply.

They stayed for a moment in silence.

"Come on," said Nick in a hushed voice. "Let's find George and let's finish this. For your Mum."

"For glints," said Edie.

"For glints," Nick nodded.

They reached Dowgate and as Nick stepped precariously into the next street, she bristled at the sight of what she saw. What she feared was correct. It was the most protected street of them all, after Cannon Street, with taints lining the shadows of the walls in wait for an unsuspecting victim. A clatter from the end of the street happened and Nick spun round to see that Edie had accidently kicked an unnoticed tin can which had bounced down the seemingly vacant, yet guarded, street. There was a moment of pause, still silence that seemed to last a lot longer in Nick's mind, which filled with tension and fear. Then a few taints lurched off the buildings, scraping large amounts of stone of the walls as their claws dragged down the sides. Their long, brutal wing span clawed for air to momment them forward, getting closer and closer.

"RUN!" Nick screamed.

Edie didn't risk going the way back because it would lead them to where the spits were gathering on the bridge. She continued up towards the Monument passing under a tall building as the road carried on beneath it. Several more taints were hanging like bats on to the underside of the building bridge Edie had passed underneath. Nick had chased after her trying to distract the taints' attention. Her hood was up and the stupid creatures would easily mistake her for Edie.

Edie was a fast runner; she took down the street on her nimble legs which carried her quickly forward, but for once Nick felt the exhaustion of it, and her legs dragged close to the ground as she stumbled on. It was a first for her, too feel this tired when running, and the nerves she gained from the experience of it made her hyperventilate even more. She almost tripped several times. Her muscles were already drained of oxygen. Converting the Brute had just about finished her. Her body was crying out for more but no matter how many times Nick gulped in large mouthfuls, it wasn't good enough. The acid burned her lungs and throat. She felt the itchy stab of stitch in her side- something she hadn't felt for years and something that worried her because of its presence. She had often wondered if in her eternity of Wandering, her body would ever reach a point where it simply couldn't take it anymore. What would happen then?

She thought it was happening now.

She started to lag behind, the taints only getting closer. She noticed Edie take a sharp turn off the main road and then leap up some spiral stairs up on to King William Street above. However Nick continued on the same road forward, hoping the taints would follow, which would be as much a blessing as it was a bane.

They did.


	44. Hide

Nick heard the patter of taint hooves and the flapping of the wings as heavy gargoyles ploughed on through the street behind her. She legged it up the street but knew she couldn't run for much longer. Her eyesight was swaying; dark edges were creeping into her vision, closing in on themselves. The road in front of her seemed to be moving, elongating so that the end looked far away. She never seemed to be getting far. It made her feel sick. Her footsteps were echoing around, alerting more taints. She slowed slightly and for a second she felt like stopping. She knew she could go no further. The blackness was all around and she was about to collapse. She thought about just letting the taints catch up with her and having to suffer the punishment. Maybe the taints wouldn't attack her, not when they realised who it was they were chasing.

She was about to throw back her hood when a taint flew in from the side and grabbed her. She was knocked into a small side street into the shadows, the sharp change of direction throwing her hood back anyway, showing her ill face. A hand clamped around her mouth, preventing her from crying out and another hand held tight around her waist, preventing her from struggling. Then the being whispered and she realised it wasn't a taint at all…

"Shhhhhhh."

She knew it was the Walker.

The gabble of taints rounded the corner. Nick stayed perfectly still, trying her utmost hardest to hold her breath. The moment of tension was so extreme that Nick thought they were going to hear her own heart battering her ribs. The blood was pulsing in her brain and the roar from it echoed in her ears. The Darkness was still beating onto the inside of her skull, numbing her thoughts and shutting down her senses. She was going to pass out.

The Walker gripped her a little tighter and she was sure he could feel her trembling. She knew if she could keep her concentration the taints wouldn't be able to see her, but any lapse, any slight move or sound, would alert them.

In the confusion of seeing nothing down the alleyway the taints continued to the end of the street, disappearing further away from the Stone.

"We must stop meeting like this," said the Walker, with the grim humour Nick was used to so apparent in his breath.

"Stop following me," Nick replied bitterly.

"But that's my curse isn't it? I'm the Walker. I'm the one that follows close behind."

Nick resisted the urge to talk back and took some heavy breaths. When the Walker suddenly spoke again his voice had returned to the dead seriousness that Nick would never admit frightened her.

"You never learn do you?" he said, still holding on tight and squeezing even tighter. "It's disappointing we're in this situation again. What a very poor shadow you make. You let your guard down too often. It's lazy and dangerous. You need to put weight behind your alias."

"My alias means nothing."

"You alias means everything. As a servant you are no longer Nicola Hawke like I am no longer John Dee."

It was true. This was the first time Nick had heard her full name being said in years. She almost didn't recognise it. It meant nothing to her. She wasn't that person anymore. That person was dead to her.

"You're playing with fire," he snarled.

"I get along just fine," Nick answered back.

"We'll agree to disagree."

"What do you want?"

He shoved her away from him and Nick took a mere second retrieving the knife out of her pocket and pointed it at him. She got that nagging feeling again. There was something about that knife. The feel of it in her hand wasn't right. The Walker also stared at it intently.

"Where did you get that?" he asked grimly.

"Who cares?" Nick replied.

The Walker shot forward and snatched it out of her hand with sickening speed. Nick's mouth dropped open.

"Give it back!" she yelled.

"No."

Nick fumed as she watched him place her knife into the side pocket of his coat.

"You shouldn't be here," he said.

"The Stone wants me here," she retorted whilst massaging her temples, panting, still feeling dizzy.

"But that's not _why_ you're here."

Nick didn't answer him. She brought her hands behind her head and breathed heavily then tried to concentrate on bringing the smears of her vision into focus.

"I heard Justice," the Walker declared.

"We solved the riddle."

"The riddle I said would lead you nowhere. Now what?"

"Only it didn't lead to nowhere and you know that! Please just let me do this," she pleaded.

"Do what!"

"Just…" she tried to side-step him but he pulled an arm across her so she was trapped between him and the wall. She growled and said; "Just let me go!"

"I can't. I won't let you."

"You think you're better than me, huh? Then why am I the one with all the power?"

Nick didn't care how big headed it sounded. The Walker looked ready to spit fire.

"You dare to disobey me?"

"I'm not going to follow your orders anymore," Nick said defiantly, "and I will not pander to the Stone's every whim."

"As long as the Stone gets what it wants it has no care whether a hierarchy forms in its ranks. You see, you may not think I control you, but you couldn't be more wrong. I _own_ you. And you will do what I tell you."

Nick tried to get away but he closed in even further. She was trapped.

"John!" she tried to whisper but it ended up coming out as a loud snap anyway. Despite what he'd just said about their identity she could see from his face that the name struck something deeper inside him. "This is our chance of freedom. We could end the curse."

"It's too dangerous."

"The safe option isn't always the right one."

"IT'S OVER!"

Nick winced at his anger. His voice carried so loud that they both stayed immediately still and quiet, listening out for the sound of taints returning. They glared at each other and his hand slid off the wall although she didn't move away.

"The curse happened," he continued when he was sure no one had heard. "What's done is done. You can't change the past. I understand that more than anyone."

Nick paused to consider the look on his face. She saw something close to care showing in his good eye but must have been wrong. The Walker didn't feel. It was probably just an afflicted hindrance. Some duty of responsibility. The need for control for the safety over himself.

"I _did_ change things," Nick replied. "You're not made from stone anymore. Anyway, we can't just give up. It's not about the past, it's about the future. We _can_ change that. We can make it what we want it to be."

"The Stone is too powerful. You could never get to it now, it's too well protected."

"You mean by those stupid taints that just ran away?"

In a instant flux of time, the Walker surged forward and grabbed Nick's arm again. Nick pulled away but his strength and upper hand of surprise overpowered her and he twisted it behind her back. She raised onto her tiptoes, trying to lessen the sudden pressure of her elbow being forced up and jarring her shoulder socket. It happened too quick for her to cry out in pain. The quick audacity of the assault made her dizziness return. With his other hand he pushed her head at an awkward angle to the side and took two steps forward, whacking her into the rough brick of the side wall. Her face pressed against it, squashing the eye closest to it. As he wrestled to hold her, the cragged texture of the brick chaffed her skin. Then the Walker took hold of the scruff of Nick's hoody around her neck. He rounded her to force her back close against the wall so they were facing each other. He shook her and she barged into the wall again, the momentum continuing to force him closer, crushing her into the rough brick, fixing her in place and making the air escape her lungs. She stifled a groan and her arm dropped limply towards the floor. It pained with pins and needles and her shoulder throbbed. She had no option but to powerlessly look into the bottomless pit of his violet eye, and the mystery sitting behind the cloudy iris of the other. Her situation repulsed her with unequivocal indignation. He put one arm across the length of her shoulders, pulled out his jewelled knife from the inside pocket of his coat, and held it to her throat.

"Don't make me use this."

His threat sickened her. Her mouth was so dry but she gathered all the moisture she could to expel, and spat in his face. With a strange patience he merely drew his arm along his face whilst still locking her with his other.

"I saved you!" Nick hollered. "I brought you back! Who's to say I won't just take it away again," she threatened whilst struggling against him.

"You never would," he whispered close into her face, echoing her own voice from the past.

"You're a coward," she called. "And hurting me won't prove you're right."

"I thought you hated the lesser world, why go back to it?"

"Can't be any worse than here, can it? Besides, did I mean that or was it just what the Darkness wanted me to believe?"

"Nick!" his anger grew, "This ends now. Being immortal does _not_ make you invincible. The Stone will win. It always wins. If you're not on its side, it won't just hurt you, it'll destroy you. It'll pick off your friends one by one until you are the only one left and-"

"Ha! You think I have friends? You think anyone in this bleak exsistance of a life I have means anything to me?"

"I think there is now," he smiled, "Have you enjoyed this time spent with your new allies? I'd certainly expect you to share some bonds by now."

Nick frowned. It was so easy for the Walker to see through her bluff, but she had her doubts about what she wanted out of the whole ordeal. Surely if she didn't know, then the Walker wouldn't. She thought about what he was saying.

"Why exactly did you leave me with them?"

The Walker left the answer to hang. She started to think it wasn't about him leaving her with the Gunner and the kids as a punishment for betrayal, and instead something else. But what exactly did he want her to accomplish by abandoning her with the enemy?

"So, what? You thought that if I bonded with them I would be to afraid to tackle the Stone because I would fear for their safety?"

The Walker raised an eyebrow and the creases in his smile never faultered. Yet part of this made no sense to Nick. Did the Walker not realise that the experiences Nick had shared with George and Edie would bring them closer together, and give Nick the strenght to want to fight against the Stone even more. She certainly wouldn't have been able to do it without them.

But the Walker didn't actually believe two days would be enough to support the fabrics on Nick's decisions? She had spent centuries on her own. He knew she was too like himself now. That independance would still rule over her.

"If you wrong the Stone it will suppress you," he continued. "Tear down everything you've ever believed in. It will extinguish any hope or joy you have left in the world and dismantle your memories until you are left with something you don't even recognise anymore. Your soul will be torn apart until you are nothing but a desolate blot pleading for death. And then you'll die and when you wake, it'll start all over again. I'm not a coward; I've just lived too long. Long enough to know the harsh truth."

Nick didn't know what to say. His experiences with the Darkness was not something she wanted to question.

"Why do you even care about what happens to me? You never have done," she responded.

The Walker frowned and stayed silent for a moment. He put the knife away.

"There are ways of uplifting our curse…" he said, "but this isn't one of them. You have to stop this."

"The Stone will _never_ release you. Or _me_ for that matter."

"And what you are trying to do now will _never_ work!"

"What would you know?"

"When I went through the Black Mirrors I ended up-"

"What?" Nick interrupted quickly, so aghast at what she just heard that her mouth fell open.

"Yes. I went through them. I finally got a pair. After all this time looking and after all this time you spent trying to stop me finding them. Don't look like that I know you did..."

Nick tried to keep her face blank but her cheeks turned red when she knew he had her figured out. She had tried in vein to stop him. Once, years ago, when he'd gotten both mirrors in his clutches Nick had stolen them, selling one of them for something she believed was far greater. The Walker might not have thought that but she would make him see sense one day. She was going to sell the other half too, but found out the man she'd sold the first half too had been killed. It didn't take long for her to figure out who'd killed him. In fear of the Walker confronting her, she'd buried the second half of the mirror in the foundations of some new building work happening in the City at the time. It was roughly around the spot her old house once stood, burning into ashes just like the Walker's quest for power.

Of course, she thought, it made sense. How else would the Ice Murk have escaped through the mirrors if something hadn't gone through the other way?

"I pity you," she glowered.

"I entered a world unlike no other," said the Walker. "The power contained there, the Stone pales in comparison. I saw all that, experienced it."

"Why did you come back?"

"Because of _them._ The Glint and Maker fought the Ice Devil andI became trapped in the balance between worlds. I came here when I was spat back out. I saw things differently after that."

"If you'd stayed there. If you've found what you were looking for, would you have come back for me?"

The Walker blinked.

"Why would I come back for you?" he said flatly.

Nick smiled humourlessly and issued a small nod of her head. The Walker didn't react at all except his mouth coming open to speak.

"What is the point of all this? What is the point of the Prime Minister sitting in number 10 thinking he owns the place when really we know that his unLondon means nothing compared to our one. And I've seen the next level too. What if it doesn't end? You work yourself to the top only to find yourself on yet another rung of a very tall ladder; you keep breaking into the Russian doll only to find another layer. You're never at the centre. You never end up where you want to be, you never get what you want. I've tried to help you, Nick, I really have, but it all means nothing."

Nick had never seen the Walker so crazed before. She wondered if this was how Wirral had started out; seeing something no human could ever take in or become accustomed to, so it turned their souls into something they could no longer relate with. They gave up all hope of ever trying to make things right again.

"No one can reach the top of the ladder. You'd have to be God," she said.

"What if there isn't a God?"

"There's a Hell. I know that."

"You know nothing of hell."

The two of them paused to read the other's expression then Nick made a loud, heavy grunt of exhaustion and frustration.

"What do you want?" she shouted, exasperated. "What if you had all the power in the world, then what? It's just Paradise Syndrome. You'll never think what you have is good enough, you'll never be satisfied and you'll never be happy. You need to come to realise that otherwise there is no hope. Maybe you don't deserve hope, or happiness, but there is a way to get it. I won't give up. I'll never stop fighting. I don't want power; I just want a normal life. We can set things right I know we can..."

"Is that right?" broke another voice, rounding the corner.

A loathsome Stone-Servant with the blackest hair greased back and scraped across his thick-set skull stood before them, watching from the mouth of the alley. His eyes were narrow yet alluring. He rode a stern expression on his face and yet still appeared calm. Nick's heart sank as she realised he was dragging George along by the collar of his shirt.

George was wriggling like a wild cat, lashing out and trying to throw vile words at the man holding him. But the gag of torn fabric around his mouth barred him. The man cracked a quick slap around George's face which snapped his neck to the side with alarming force. He then took the gag off and George spat at the ground.

"I'm sorry, Nick," George bawled.

The man didn't seem to notice George's attempts to release himself, he held him quite comfortably at arms length with just one hand. With his free hand he opened a small, golden compass attached to his waistcoat. He looked down at it and artfully smiled before letting it rest on the chain again and looking back to the Walker.

"Well I'm not surprised at the girl but you… it looks like you've fallen off your mighty high-horse at last. Tut tut. The Stone will not be happy in the slightest with its second in command, oh no. If only it had a face for which I could see its expression when I tell it you've not been faithful. Oh dear, dear. Certainly not what you expect from its most loyal servant. Hah."

"You," said the Walker, spitting the bitter word out after what sounded like years of built up detest and revulsion.

Nick knew the man from her past. He went by many aliases, but Lampard was the one which had stuck primarily for the last few centuries, even though Nick had her theories about who he actually was. He hadn't changed one bit. She had also unfortunately met up with him on her travels, much to her disappointment as he was the one that found her. She didn't spend long with him. The Walker had a long-running feud with him but she'd never gotten proof about what had started it. The first time they'd met she'd created an instant wariness and dislike for him. She couldn't explain why. It was like a qualm scepticism, feeding notions of misgiving and mistrust. A bad vibe radiating. Her thoughts seemed to jumble about when he was near and she found herself agreeing to things he said without even knowing. He was very charming, but in a way she knew was bad for her. His intelligence could very easily lure you into a false sense of security. He was very knowing. A smooth-talker, very cunning. But she knew what he really was; ruthless, deceitful and obnoxious. A fraud. He was known by some as the Searcher. He described himself as someone who would just know where other people would be.

George was throwing punches everywhere but he never touched his target. Where Lampard appeared to be was not where he actually was. George would throw his fist forward, but as it appeared to touch, his arm would curve around and slide down the side of him. He would throw another aimed for his centre and it would appear to hit but George would not feel contact. Space rippled around his hand. He would blink and the shape that he thought was Lampard's body had moved. His perceptions had changed. It made his eyes hurt looking at him. His outline was fuzzy, almost like he was constantly vibrating from side to side, so quickly that the edges of him would just be a blur. It was like time was in staccato.

"This is the Ironhand I've heard so many stories about?" Lampard's brow creased with confusion. "I must say I'm disappointed."

"I wondered whether you'd show your face tonight. You've got some nerve," said the Walker.

Lampard replied with a broad smile. In one swift flash he threw the boy to the ground. George was so stupefied that he didn't even feel himself drop. His wrists shot out intuitively as he tumbled and the jarred impact took effect. Trapping the pain behind scrunched up eyes he scurried over to Nick.

Lampard watched him pathetically crawl away with a smile. He stood openly with no look of care or concern about being outnumbered. He acted like all the time was on his hands and he controlled it.

His hands were together and a finger delicately rubbed against the signet ring with the angel on. Nick thought she saw it light up for a moment.

Then the whispers began.

It was only a short wisp of sound, but it rang behind Nick's ear and she turned with a slight stoop to her posture, expecting to see something hovering over her. But there was nothing and Nick turned back to look at George and the Walker, both of whom glanced her way to see what her problem was. Nick realised they hadn't heard what she had. She looked back to Lampard and the look in his eye told her something she didn't understand, and it made her frightened. The whispers struck up closer again and Nick felt with it an accompanying rush of air that brushed against the back of her neck. It caused her to hunch her shoulders quickly and spin at the same time.

Lampard pulled a gun from his coat pocket so quickly that none of them seemed to notice until the sound of him pulling back the hammer reached them. He aimed it at the Walker. Nick was the last to notice, having looked all around her, seeing nothing of what had made the whispers or where they had come from. She tried to forget about them and concentrated on the mounting tension between the two other servants. It was a common scenario for someone to have a gun pointing near her, but something in Nick's mind told her to be more careful this time.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen," Lampard sneered cynically.

"Give it up. You can't win. Shooting me will waste your bullet, but not my life," the Walker replied in an unnaturally bored and uncalming manner.

"Huh. What life?"

"Shouldn't you be at the Stone?"

"I thought that would be you're responsibility, number two."

"You're not jealous, are you?"

"Ha." The two of them glared at each other. "On the contrary, while you've been cluttering the limelight for so long I've been busy in the shadows, and to much success. I have found potential far beyond this futile layer of London and have gained such talent that diminishes your cheap feats of devilry the Stone bestowed upon you into nothing more than cracker prizes." Lampard shimmered again with an omnipotent effectiveness.

"As I can see," said the Walker.

"Or can you?" Lampard sneered and flittered the mask of air around him, deceiving everyone's eyes by becoming almost invisible, then appearing more to one side than anyone realised he was. For a moment it looked like there were two of him, until the past figure caught up with the present, and dissipated into thin air. "The things I have gotten away with, hah, I'm sure you'll be turning in you're upcoming appointed grave." He kept the point of the gun fixed squarely at the Walker's chest. "However as of late I feel it's time to step up a gear, raise the barrier a little. I'm sure I can reap the benefits of loyalty. Helping the Stone out now will stand me in good stead for the future."

While Lampard was talking he kept up his flickery façade. A crafty and effortless deceit that played in front of everyone's eyes and rendered them expendable. An insidious grasshopper, he managed to look like the top of a flame; sparking off and on and shifting knowingly, easily able to pull off the serpentine chicane like a glitch in the matrix.

"You'll never be anyone," Nick shouted, sending a filthy look at Lampard.

"Nick," the Walker warned.

"No, no," said Lampard, turning his head towards the girl, "let her speak. Let the spectre have more to say than whispers. I've missed that sweet voice."

Nick's eyes flashed angrily.

"You'll never be important. You're worthless to the Stone, a pointless dogsbody," she rattled.

Lampard smiled with no wit at the back-handed comment whilst grinding his teeth.

"Stay out of this," urged the Walker.

"Oh look at that. Defence comes to your aid once again," Lampard hissed. "Just like old times, eh? What a lucky mollycoddled pet you are. It's become a cliché I'm now bored off. Such strong words from you, girl, but such forged strength behind them. Surely you tire your pretty little self out?"

Nick made forward but George pulled her back.

Lampard stared at her, her outline was fading through his subconscious, unable to keep her central in his vision although his mind barely clutched on to remembering the idea of her and maintaining her whereabouts.

"Knock that off you paltry chameleon. You can try and disappear or be forgotten about as much as you like but it's not going to work on me!" he blazed.

Nick frowned. She hadn't even realised what she was doing. It was happening subliminally. It made her feel conscious that he knew she must be scared. She hated that feeling.

"You may be special, girl, but you're not the pinnacle of creation, so get off that moral high ground," Lampard carried on unfazed in that condescending voice Nick hated so much. "Everyone knows your tale: the person who could have been someone but ended up a no one. You think you're the victim but you're not. You're a shark. You've lied, stole, betrayed, worse than that even, but it doesn't need saying. A right clever Artful Dodger."

"Of course… you'd know all about lying and stealing, wouldn't you?" Nick drawled.

Lampard threw her a canny smile. He heated with a glorified glitz of insight as his eyes scrolled from Nick to the Walker, lingering at him valorously for a sly moment of conquest shown by the scorn smile in his eyes.

"I've seen what you can do, honey, you're no better than the rest of us slaves. You don't deserve redemption. The Stone will be done with you soon and once I've finished with Johnny-boy here, your protected arrogance and naivety will be left unguarded. Your battalion of insults won't get you anywhere, just remember that. Once your shield drops, you'll be done for, no more escapes. You _will_ burn. I'll finish you. You won't be barred forever, then I will break you down….easily."

Lampard's tongue flicked across his lips.

"Leave her, this is between me and you," said the Walker.

"Exactly."

Lampard paused with sardonic dramatacism and cackled with deep, sparkling eyes straight at Nick with impatient electricity and lurid anticipation. The scars around his ears looked stark white compared to his ghoul-like transparency, which made their standpoint even more nightmarish.


	45. Wait

"Look how many there are," said the Fusilier with a deflated sigh.

"If you have tears boys, prepare to shed them now," said the Gunner.

He crouched beside the Fusilier on his knees and mused in angst as he silently assessed their situation. He started to feel very worried about leaving Nick and Edie on their own.

They had reached the junction where Queen's Street met Cannon Street, only a few hundred metres away from London Stone. They had already taken care of a few lone taints and knew there were more to come. They could just see in the distance a gather of them, huddling together, their silhouettes bobbing up and down as they wandered. At the Stone the moon illuminated the central isle of the street where a servant paced up and down with hands behind its back. They couldn't see its face due to the casts of deep shadow similar to the ones that lined both sides of the street. They all wondered about what they couldn't see lurking in the dark.

"Do you think that's him?" said the Officer, turning to the Gunner.

"No," said the Gunner, squaring his eyes to focus on the servant. "The Walker doesn't like being in plain view. And if it's a trap then he wouldn't use himself as bait."

"That's a shame."

"How so?"

"If it _was_ him then we could use Nick."

"I think your overlooking the fact that Nick could be anywhere in the City by now, but I'll ask you again- how so?"

"As it seems, the Walker has no indication that Nick is working for us, therefore she could easily trick him…"

"I still don't reject the idea that he knows _exactly _what she's up to."

"That is a possibility. If our plan was concrete enough we could use Nick to get to him."

"I fear that's what he's doing to us. And to be honest our plan is what concrete is to jelly. Besides, if we did manage to outsmart him- which has very bad odds- I doubt he'd go that far beyond his comfort zone for her sake," the Gunner ground his jaw as he spoke. "I've seen the way he treats her."

"It's what he's always done. He made her stay at the orphanage so she would be around normal people. She would know nothing about this world. He would visit her but would keep her in the dark about who he really was or what was waiting for her. He wouldn't let her know her own potential. He would play with her mind, making her think she was going crazy, keeping her in that realm where she didn't relate to anyone. Keeping her separate. An outcast. She was like putty in his hands. He knocks her down because he knows what she's capable of."

"He's scared of her?"

"She has more power than any of us. It's more complicated than that though."

"It always is."

"From what you've told me there is a notable difference in how he treats her compared to the other servants."

"Really?"

"Just think. If you saved a little girl's life then spanned the time of centuries with her, taught her everything she knew, gave her everything she owned, wouldn't you at least feel some kind of connection to her?"

The Gunner paused but said nothing. The Officer continued.

"Nick has had few real friends or points of contact for the best part of her life. It has only ever been the two of them."

"What're you saying?"

"Whatever his reason or agenda for saving her life in the first place, no man could be with someone for that long without seeing so much of themselves in the person they've raised. Nick's had it bad, and it's amazing that she's lasted this long as a servant."

"So you're saying he…looks out for her?"

The Gunner couldn't believe what he was saying.

"In the best way he can," said the Officer without a hint of untruth. "Sure, that probably means she gets beat about a lot, but that's just him. He's mad and there's no denying it. But I would dare say he would move the earth not to let other dangers rain down on her."

"Hmm, I don't know. I see you're reasoning, and if it were anyone else then I would believe you. But the Walker's mind doesn't work like the rest of us, I don't believe we can use logic to predict what he knows and thinks."

"I'm on the Gunner's fence 'ere boss, sorry," the Fusilier interjected.

"His mind is a maze, awash with brilliance and evil," said the Officer unfathomed. "Those two qualities do not bode well together. He's a monster, I grant, but he is still a man. Men have faults. They have weaknesses. What is his weakness?"

"Power," said both the Gunner and the Fusilier instantaneously.

"And why did he save Nick?"

"…because he knew she was a Key and he wanted her power to release him," the Gunner said slowly, realising the Officer's theory was gaining more and more strength.

"Bingo," the Officer pulled a face of null acceptance. "She _is _his power. She is his weakness."

"You think that he would put himself in harms way to save her?"

"Remind yourself, Gunner, of the affairs that lead your group this far. Would you have found the right way if you'd not been supplied with the route shown by the gem stone?"

The Gunner thought deep about it and shook his head.

"And how did you acquire such a stone?" asked the Officer.

"In the alley, Nick…no, he... he-"

"Handed it to her on a plate?"

"Well… he threw it at her, really."

"He may rule with a stone heart, but I believe his thoughts are focussed on good when it comes to her. But of course being him, he would never let her realise that. She is in many ways his salvation. The one part of his life when he can make right. Make up for the past. He was normal man with a family once…you see it yet?"

"No. Whoever he was in his past life, he's not that man anymore. He's not John Dee. He's the Walker. The Walker is a murderer. He's not a man who cares about having an untarnished soul. He is beyond a worthy conscience, annulled from emotion, too clogged by dark treacle running evil through his veins. He's past the point of redemption and he knows it. What's worse is he doesn't even care."

"And what about her?" the Officer asked.

"You don't trust Nick?" the Gunner asked, surprised.

"No I do, it's just, she might find herself in a certain situation where she can't do anything else except make the wrong choice. Her position makes her vulnerable. It is an unfortunate circumstance that her way of succeeding may also cause her downfall. She must've known what a can of worms she was opening when she released him from stone. He could get his way and still keep her safe, but that way brings nothing but misfortune to the rest of us. The Walker has her trapped, and I doubt she even realises how deep she is. He can make her believe things that he's manipulated her into believing."

"I think she's stronger than that now."

"I do hope so," the Officer sighed.

"She has us now. We won't let her fall."

"Of course not. But what about the Stone? Surely that has more captive over her than the Walker could even imagine."

"That is a problem," the Gunner said, rubbing his hands across his tired eyes.

The Officer nodded with a sympathetic tone.

"That is a problem. She has its power therefore a part of the Stone already lies within her. She won't be able to just run away. I fear she has already been claimed by its destructive habits."

"You're scaring me now."

"Is it this hat?"

"No… it's the moustache."

"Ah. Right."

The two of them smiled but their humour didn't help them forget the situation, or the freezing cold that surrounded them.

"You two done yapping?" chirped another voice. "I do hope you realise that whilst you've been having a nice little chat we're probably being ambushed."

The Gunner had almost forgotten about the rest of their group. There were six of them in total. The Gunner and the Officer at the front, and the Fusilier just behind. Behind them was the Gurkha; a young Asian man who had just broke the conversation. He was wearing a kaki jacket buttoned up to the top. A utility belt hung around his waist holding a curved knife known as a kukri. He also wore shorts, long fitted boots that met his knees and a wide-brimmed, felt slouch hat with chinstrap, worn so it tilted down to rest on top of his right ear. On his back was a large rucksack and he held in his hands a rifle with a long, sharpened bayonet attached to the end.

"How's it lookin' out back, Co?" asked the Officer.

At the back of the flank were two Royal Tank Regiment soldiers dressed in black jump-suit overalls and berets. They each wore a hand gun around there necks hanging in holders strapped to their waist. The smallest and youngest of the group, called Driver, wore a scarf and had the thick collar of his overalls turned up around his neck. He shifted nervously up and down. The eldest and more experienced, known as the Commander, wore a shirt and tie beneath his overalls and was crouched looking back down the shadowy route of Queen's Street through a pair of binoculars. As he pulled them away from his face he brushed his moustache between finger and thumb, trying to figure out whether the suspected movements he could just about make out in the dark were cause for concern or just tricks of the mind.

"Capital," the Commander grumbled. "Can't see for toffee out of these 'nocs and I've got Driver 'ere tugging me shirt every five secs seeing something out of nothing."

"It's not nothing! I swear it," Driver replied in a tone that wanted to seem strong, but failed.

"What's got 'is knicks in a twist?" said Gurk.

"Said he 'ad a bad turn o'day," said the Commander.

"Point me to the man who has good ones," the Gunner scoffed.

"No, but this was unlike the others. I think it was a sign, you know, a premonition or something, warning us about what's to come," said Driver, looking both peeved and scared.

"Fill us with confidence, why don't ya?" smiled Gurk.

"E's all smiles and rainbows," said the Gunner.

"Firstly: stop putting the willies up everyone, Driver, and lastly: everyone else, shush, less of the hullabaloo," warned the Officer.

"Yes, sir. Sorry…sir," Driver replied meekly. The Commander slapped him over the head and went back to the binoculars.

They all looked around the darkness in silence for a few moments, their ears strained tight for hidden sounds.

"No sign of George," the Gunner mumbled.

"No. Nor the girls," the Officer whispered, "but then I wouldn't expect them to be walking out in the open, would you?"

The Gunner cocked his eyebrow and smiled. Once again the second of light relief between them eased their worry, but it didn't last.

A flap of air was heard above them and a dark figure dropped out of the sky with a light thud besides them. Driver yelled and went for his gun. The Commander stopped him, pinned his arm against his chest as their eyes adjusted to the figure as it straightened up.

"They're coming," said the figure, which they could now all see was an angel.

The winged spit of St Michael from Cornhill. He looked like a roman centurion, complete with bronze helmet and breast plate, and a long, twisted sword in his hand.

"There's a line of taints on patrol coming from Cheapside. More on Queen Vic'. A few towards Holborn. Tallymen on the periphery. Dowgate is a no go. They're closing in on us."

"Maybe that's what the Stone wanted," said a nervous Fusilier, "to post sentries on the outskirts and when we made our way in they would corner us from all angles."

"That's why we put posts around us, to stop further oncoming attacks from the outside. They'll reach them first," said the Officer turning back to the angel. "What's our situation?"

"If they bypass our other groups then ten minutes, max."

"The cathedral?"

"Suffered a few initial attacks but we seem to have it covered. The taints don't want to enter it. Too spiritual for them. And there's not enough servants to take it on their own. All other secured posts at the Monument and the Tower."

"The pub?" said the Gunner.

"Blackfriar's is secured."

"Good. Keep us posted."

St. Michael saluted then rose up into the air. Before soon he could only be tracked by the stars blinking as his silhouette past in front of them.

"Dowgate…" whispered the Gunner, his face strained with an aching remorse.

"I know," said the Officer, laying a hand on the Gunner's shoulder. "They'll be OK."

Driver was certain he heard a whistling through the air. He strained his eyes and ears into the dark around him. A shallow puncture of air. A ruffle of sound.

"Could be worse," said the Gurkha in a surprisingly deep cockney accent. He was the only one of them standing, twissling his bayonet around in his hands so fast that it blurred into one big circle.

"How so?" said the Fusilier.

"We could be in the middle of a dark street with an impending ambush….oh wait," Gurk smirked then retrieved his cigarette packet out of his pocket whilst effortlessly continuing to spin his bayonet in the other. He opened it and frowned. "We could've run out of smokes too."

"Umm…guys?" said Driver.

"You're having a whale of a time here, aren't you Gurk?" said the Gunner.

"Man's gotta have a bit of fun every now and then, ain't he?" Gurk smoothly replied.

He got returning stares suggesting he was a crazy man, but the Gurkha's cool demeanour and relaxed attitude relieved the tension around the group, if only slightly.

"Guys seriously…" said a more panicked Driver, raising higher on to one leg, trying to get a better view.

"Shhhh." The Commander grabbed Driver's arm and pulled him back to his knees. "You want to get spotted?"

Another swoosh ran past, this time it seemed closer but Driver still saw nothing.

"You're not afraid of dying then?" said the Fusilier.

"I'm afraid of dying without having a fight to go out on," said Gurk.

Gurk stopped spinning the rifle and cocked his gun to provide substance to his remark. The sound echoed down the street and almost instantly there was a loud crack as an arrow flew between the group and struck into the shaft of the rifle. Gurk was primed in an instant; all the loose, care-free mannerisms promptly stripped to a bare animal instinct, ducking to his knees and yanking the arrow out in a neat, swift move and placing it behind his ear. His senses focused, he moved like a leopard forward, shuffling on his arms and legs behind a red telephone box. Everyone else had also removed their weapons from their holsters but aimed them wildly into the pitch black shadows. Three more whistles sailed inches past them, and they ushered backwards into Cannon Street, low and to the ground, the Commander dragging Driver down with him as an arrow skimmed the top of his head.

They all ran to the other side of the junction, hidden in the dark shadow of an overhanging shop front. All except Gurk, who remained his cover. Their cold breaths caught in their throats as they heard footsteps and whispers from down the street just in front of the telephone box. Their eyes caught the glimmer of a floating flare in the middle of the street.

Another whistle.

BANG.

The whistle was an arrow of fire. It projected into the side wall of the street, suddenly illuminating the shadows, pointing them out in swirling reds and oranges.

"RUN!" shouted the Officer.

His voice sparked a stampede of enemy footsteps chasing towards them. Firing crashed the silence as Gurk started shooting at the backs of the servants that had now run straight past him. A few of them ducked out of view and the rest sprinted after the group. Gurk then followed and also gave chase.

The Gunner ran with the rest close behind. They fired off random shots with their arms reached out behind them, hardly looking behind, never slowing and barely aiming as they paced the ground. Shown up brightly in the light of the moon, they shortly reached the group of taints guarding close by the Stone, which with oafing shrieks and stumbling, urgently took heed and started coming towards them. Other servants spilt out of the shadows.

The spits pulled back the triggers of their weapons again and again, feeling the bullets hammer a hole in the air with delight. They punched, ripped, kicked, knifed, any form of aggression escaped out of them. It filled them with a manic desire of rage. The prospect of a final end. A defeat to the enemy of such a long standing feud. There was to be no more waiting. This was it now. The war had begun. They just hoped the rest of their army would be along shortly.


	46. Weapon

"I hope you're not trying to make _me_ out as the bad guy in all this?" said Lampard.

"You're the one pointing the gun," said the Walker crabbily.

"Because I know how things usually play out between you and me," Lampard shrugged then grinned wickedly. "But don't tell me that if you had a gun right now you wouldn't be pointing it right back at me."

The Walker smiled too.

"…and tonight there's no time for any valiant heroics I'm afraid. Like you thought you're soul could ever be anything other than dark and shattered, hah. Salvation is such a bitch."

The Walker quickly threw a glance at Nick who was next to George, pressed up against the side of the alley, very still. They stood there confused and frightened, the cold creeping all around them. Listening to the argument play out and not knowing what to do or how to escape. George thought about making a quick get away, but the sight of the gun kept him rooted to the spot. He had seen how fast Lampard could move. No amount of adrenaline running through George's blood could match that mad man's agility. Nick looked back at the Walker, hoping she could read his face for an answer.

"Trying to work out what that shrivelled up prune inside your chest is telling you, Dr. D? How very touching." Lampard puffed his bottom lip out and made a pretend sob. He turned his wild eyes down towards the gun; his finger felt the smooth curve of the trigger. "We both know it's not the long-term benefit of killing we take the pleasure from. For us there is no long-term death. But that makes it all the more fun for our little game, eh?"

"You're crazy," replied the Walker.

"You and me both, pal," Lampard's tongue flicked across his dry lips. "I agree you've trounced me to hell and back more times, but it only makes me stronger. Doesn't mean you're winning though. No such word. Ultimately it's the individual win that we delight in rather than the running tally. The control. The relish. The look in the other's eye as they fade…"

"You talk too much."

"I'd rather hear my own voice than the drivel that exits your mouth."

"Get it over with then. Shoot me. Anything to stop me having to listen to you."

"You're snide comments mean nothing to me. It's been too long. I will kill you, and I will enjoy it. All the better now we have an audience as well." He waved the gun limply at George and Nick but kept his stare fixated on the Walker before aiming back at him.

"It's a bullet," the Walker said in such a bored manner.

"And I recognise your resistance to them. Which is why I've strengthened them with the beyond power a little. Enough to keep you down long enough for me to spill your secrets to the Stone and then you'll be sent to the in-between world so many times, you might as well stay there."

"You can't hurt me."

"No?"

Lampard shimmered and his imprint lingered before everyone's eyes like a ghostly apparition. He had moved before anyone realised he had gone, and only the following events had any say in putting the pieces together about the blip in space.

George fell with a squashed oomph as he was knocked to the ground. Nick's head was yanked back and long fingers grasped at her hair, pulling her skin tight with strained follicles. Lampard now stood behind Nick, edging back towards the main street. He pressed the gun against the side of her head. This time he didn't skip position, his edges which were cloudy and blurred, a thin veil of transparency, became solid and for the first time, he looked human. He honed in on his grip and tightened his finger on the trigger. He moved nice and slowly to see the effect of understanding on their faces grow as time caught up with them. Nick stuttered an uncontrolled gasp of fret and went very pale with troubled jeopardy. George lay unblinking on the ground, scared that any sudden move would cause a blow hole in Nick's brain even faster than even Lampard could move. The Walker's face remained stern, blank and unreadable, but the smallest of muscles below his bad eye twitched and Lampard knew he had tipped the scales.

"Hello Puppet," Lampard grinned.

"Get off me," Nick struggled.

He gave her bad shoulder a light squeeze with the hand holding the gun but it was enough to hurt. She bemoaned a heavy gripe and tried to wince her body away by arching her back at a stooped angle to let her throbbing shoulder drop away from him. But the effort was unproductive.

"Haha, awww," Lampard mocked. He then cocked his head to the side and in a child's voice said; "Am I breaking the rules? No fair."

She lashed back with her foot but her attempts were already second-guessed by him and he shifted clean out the way. He pulled Nick's head back further, raising her onto tiptoes so her head was resting against his shoulder and brought his face so it was touching the side of hers. She felt his freshly trimmed stubble graze against her sore face and his cool breath flowed against her skin, raising chills down her back. He risked a baited take at the Walker, hoping to pique the rage within him as his lips brushed across Nick's cheek to her ear.

"It's not too late for you, you know?" Lampard whispered gently.

Nick wrenched her self sideways but it did nothing to his hold on her. She knew she couldn't listen to his words. Couldn't let them manipulate and distort her judgement. His words were dangerous.

She opened her mouth for some glib comeback but he caught her chin with his hand, feeling her words only as pale vibrations in her neck that were too nervous to escape. His eyes flashed with power. She decided to close her mouth and stay quiet.

"Clever girl," he said. "Like I said, it's not too late."

His hand crept slowly to her neck and rested there softly. Already she felt his words intoxicating her, forcing the walls of her impenetrable protective core to bend, pushing her steely foundations over the edge of submissiveness. Her heart fluttered knowing full well he could clench his hand and wring her neck easily.

"You've not been the most faithful lackey but have a good many years of servitude left in you. The Stone knows your strengths. Lord knows, you're its secret weapon. It hates betrayers but it also needs people who are good at it. And-you-_are_-good."

He declared the last sentence in slowed, pronounced beats, leaving enough time in between so they buried deep in her thoughts, giving her the time to dissect and master the full meaning behind them.

"So good…" he continued, "that you've fooled even yourself. Lying to yourself into thinking there's a place for you in that lesser world. That there might actually be some good saved in that little, dark heart of yours. But don't you see? That's not what's made you. The Darkness unveiled your true potential. You're skilled. You've learnt to get on by your own, alienating your existence in the world to make people forget. To simply slip by them. The real Darkness isn't inside the Stone, it's inside you. Afterall you're the Shadow, and shadows and darkness blend all to beautifully into one another. And you feel it, don't you? The power you have on people in that moment of control. It's glorious…"

He squeezed her jaw and twisted her head to the side so she was facing George who was backed up against the wall, trying to send her a look of reassurance but knowing he was failing, as inside he was only fretting about the uselessness of him self in this situation.

"…and it won't stop there. You're brimming with ambition. You just don't realise it yet. Dee's held you back. You are destined for greatness; the angels have foretold it to me. They've seen your potential. What does the boy know? Look at him. He's nothing more than a tumbleweed blown into this world by chance and stupidity. A mere chip on this changing world. They all are. Gone in a flash. Yet you will Wander this world and see so many things. You're young, believe it or not, you're a fresh existence on this world of endless discovery. You think the boy understands? You think his mind of limited seeing is worth his blessing of your earning? How could he possibly begin to imagine who you are? What you are. They only see in black and white. Him and his little cherub friends of so called 'right' will discard you and your shades of grey once it's all over. Go back to that world and you'll throw it all away, you'll lose yourself. The Great Fire gave you a chance to have it all…"

"Don't you _dare_ mention the fire! You know nothing of who I am!" Nick yelled.

A flash ripple of a smile bounced across Lampard's eyes. Like he knew something important but didn't want to share it.

"I know more than you think," Lampard whispered. "I could save you from the Stone's discipline. It will be merciful. With me at your side it will forgive you."

He traced a finger down her cheek across the scar she had gotten in the alley. She felt a shudder pass down her body which she'd tried gravely to suppress. Lampard sparked with excitement.

"You can try to live a normal life but normal will always run away from you. Try to be good and bad throws its cards at you. Where's your justice? You don't owe anything to this world, Nick. Stop trying to win its approval and think about your own life. Do what you deserve. The Stone will reward those who help it."

Lampard slapped a hand onto her scarred shoulder and squeezed it. It made Nick jar and grimace in pain behind tight sealed lips. He then lessened the tension of his grip and Nick sunk back onto flat feet, feeling woozy. She rested leaning backwards into him, resisting to fight away, mind fighting a rapid sense of urgency but being inhibited by a overriding wave of calm. She just wanted to scream at the world for her sorrow. But right now, his offer brought her peace like a hushed sedative, wrapping its arms around her like a mother's hug of protection.

"Don't listen to him!" George yelled, now easing to his feet.

"Shut up!" shouted Lampard, wielding the aim of the barrel at George's head.

George stood straight regardless and even took a step forward.

"Don't you forget, Nick," Lampard frowned. "Don't forget who _really_ saved you."

He made a bunched fist and stabbed it down back onto Nick's shoulder as a reminder. She yelled out and her legs crumpled, keeling back into his chest. He held her from collapsing. She swung unsteadily, her head falling back, seeing his face up close as her eyelids drooped.

"You should rethink where you're loyalties lie."

George didn't know what Lampard was talking about, but he chose not to like it.

Lampard's eyes quickly shifted to the Walker after a fleeting second of panic where he'd almost forgotten him. But luckily he still remained there, rocking on the same spot, the same look of tried patience resting on his normal expression of a sombre grimace. Lampard smiled a sketchy smile at him and rested the gun back into the soft spot on the side of Nick's skull.

"Well?" he breathed feverishly. "Have you made your decision?"

In the eased confinement of his strong arms, his handsome facial features struck up close to hers, their bodies touching as the silence tickled the cold night's air around them. She looked into his rouge, autumn eyes, deep with a calculating pull of intrepid but tempting risks. Their eyes conjoined in poker defences as their minds shut out each other's stare for an answer, bestowed by their mind's ability to blur the truth from their witness with a dangerous allure of mystery.

"I'd rather rot in Hell," Nick spat.

She wouldn't have seen it, but a suspicion of a smile planted itself on the Walker's mouth.

Lampard's face detonated with an insatiable grin.

"Oh you will, darlin'. I'll meet you there. Even with immortality we can't escape the world that's waiting for us, so why suffer in this one?"

"I'll never join you. You sick, twisted freak!"

She went to raise a hand to him but his hand jerked out on reflex around her wrist much quicker than she even had the thought of slamming it down on him. He twisted it sharp and Nick yelled out in agony. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks but she wouldn't surrender to them. She wouldn't give Lampard the satisfaction.

"Last chance," Lampard professed.

"Go jump out a window!" Nick said with venom on her tongue, wriggling once again but failing, so she spat at him.

As she watched her drool dribble down his cheek he calmly smiled in a way that unnerved her. He raised his chin to her, cocked his head at a smug angle and pouted.

"It seems like John's took the pleasure in telling you all about me."

"I worked that one out for myself actually."

Nick yanked her head forward and smacked it into his forehead, the room between them too little for his neck to flex away in time. She heard a crack and him groan, and felt his head pull back away as she snarled viciously and tried to trap the pain behind her eyes. His smile turned to delicate fury behind primed fused eyes of explosives. His grip dug into the veins on her wrist which made her feel queasy as she tried to squirm out of his hold. He snaked one arm around her back, pulling her in close and trapping her hands between their bodies. His other let go of her wrist and held tight over her mouth like a muzzle. He squeezed his fingers together which forced her mouth open and pushed the barrel of the gun in to the back of her throat. Nick gagged on the metallic taste and stiffened as the gun rested on her tongue and her dry breath condensed on the cold metal.

Lampard once again brought his face close. His eyes continued to burn into hers but his head drooped low, emphasizing the striking whites of his eyes and deepening the intensity of the fiery colour of his irises.

"It's a cold, cold night. Dry. A little wind. At sunset it was a red sky, you know what that means, don't you, Nick? Reminds me of another night. A long, long time ago. The night I befriended a certain man called Thomas Farriner. You might have heard of him…"

In the space of a heartbeat all the blood had drained from Nick's face. Her eye's shot wide open, her breath caught in her throat, her pupils turned to pinpricks. All that she couldn't remain hidden through shock burst like a dam opening and sprawled to the surface of her shaking body and scared her even more.

It gave the reaction Lampard had hoped for. His intense eyes showed a flurry of impassioned theatrics. Fuelled by a quench of bottled exuberance; his body danced with boundless ecstasy as the molecules vibrated with mounting kinetic energy. He took the gun out of her mouth, which remained open in a difficult fight for breath, and loosely held it as he cupped her head in his hands on either cheek, blocking off her peripheral vision so that he was close and centre. He stroked her skin with his thumb and the heat rose in her face. She felt her tongue gagging her and her stomach churning and the pain of her heart being crushed by her ribs, chest borders converging, forcing their way into a densely packed space as the truth struck home and left her asphyxiated. He was the only thing keeping her on her feet.

"_No,_" she whispered, heart sick.

"Do you know what night that was?" Lampard teased, licking his lips with the corrosive thirst of rapturous satisfaction. "The same night I put a knife in his maid and let the oven roar and the house catch ablaze."

Nick struck barely before the sentence had left his mouth, which surprised Lampard even further because he was a fast talker. His concentration on remembering the girl had slipped just slightly, and Nick raised her knee sharp between his legs so that he released her and waddled back, bent over his abdomen with a heavy gasp as the air rushed out of him. With his head tucked low he went to reach out for her but she was already being pulled back by the Walker who was on him, throwing himself into Lampard's side so fast, the two of them hit the ground with his own vigour of speed.

"There it is," said Lampard through baited breaths as the Walker grabbed his shirt. "The fury within. You lasted well 007."

The two of them scrambled for leverage on one another. Lampard started shouting in a language Nick didn't recognise, but the Walker seemed to acknowledge it with anger as a response. He pinned Lampard under his knee, pressing down hard into his stomach, his gaseous essence of a body becoming rooted in reality as the air was driven out of his lungs, making him refocus into view. His grasps of breath were distorted and overtaxed as he tried to roll and up heave the Walker's weight on him.

"Although-" Lampard gasped and jutted his chin out at him. "You'll have to knock one of those zeros off your signature now, I see, ahah."

Nick moved forward but George rushed and pulled her back. Lampard managed to get an arm up and push his thumb into the Walker's good eye socket. The Walker howled and tilted back and Lampard twisted his head to look at Nick.

"You know what night it was!" he repeated to her in an inhumane scream of contemptuous pain, rising over the scuffling noises of his and the Walker's heaving breaths and feet scraping along the ground. "The night London burned!"

"No Nick!" shouted George, grasping onto her to stop her going for him.

Lampard managed to wriggle forward his hands trapped against his chest and lift the angle of the gun up.

"The night _you_ should have burned!" Lampard yelled.

The Walker curbed a fist into Lampard's jaw, drumming his skull and knocking his senses into black spots. Lampard laughed manically and the Walker punched him twice more in quick, successive blows so that Lampard's head lolled to the side as his slack jaw dribbled. His gun was knocked out of his hands and skittered a few yards clear.

Nick pushed George away and darted forward in a crouch to pick it up. George ran after her but hesitated besides with his palms out as if telling her to take it easy. He watched her point the gun at Lampard, the aim constantly shifting to try and compensate for the erratic shuffling of the scuffle between him and the Walker. Nick's face creased up and she swallowed hard as her finger hovered on the trigger. Lampard reacted and his hand went to the other, touching the ring on his finger. Nick became swathed in white wisps of smoke, tangling all down her arms and around her body. The whispers returned and Nick became lost to the outside world, trapped in this hazy bubble she couldn't escape. She heard a muffled noise and an arm emerge through the thick veil. It held onto her arm and pulled her forward, and the bonds holding her immobile broke. The whispers died.

Nick came back to the world with George letting go of her arm. She quickly looked around her but any sign that anything abnormal just happened had gone. The gun had fallen back to the floor but she didn't pick it up again. A tear fell down her cheek. She took her attention quickly back to the fight.

The Walker still had Lampard pinned down, scrabbling with his hands on Lampard's hands, trying to wrestle the signet ring off his finger. It finally came free with a growl off Lampard and the Walker chucked it across the ground down the street. Then he rested back on his knees as one hand reached into his own inner pocket of his coat, the other raised high for another punch. However, this time Lampard was ready for him and used his advantage of speed to arch his body up and knock the Walker off balance. The Walker kiltered onto his back, slashing forward blindly with his lowered arm in the process. That arm held the retrieved knife from his pocket and it cleaved through the soft skin by the side of Lampard's mouth and travelled up the side of his cheek, tracing up the fragile scar tissue around the curve of his ear. Lampard screamed and the Walker shuffled back on all fours to find room to stand. In the bat of an eye, Lampard jotted onto a crouched foot and send out a kick in a flash of light which collided with the Walker's stomach, digging into soft flesh as the Walker howled in pain. Just as the Walker started to feel the impact of the assault, Lampard took a mere millisecond to pounce over to the gun and was aiming it at the Walker who lay panting on his back, clutching his stomach.

Through a half-shut eye and a pulsing lower lip, Lampard pulled a half-smile, widening the jagged tear of white-torn flesh in his cheek, quickly forgotten by the numbness. His injury left him with half a Chelsea smile and left one ear half torn along the scar at the top, but he barely seemed to notice. He ran his fingers through his hair, arching the smooth, inky strands back neatly across his skull. Then he straightened up his jacket and brushed some dust off his shoulder. His short-winded breaths of a dark thirst for vengeance hung on his finger resting against the trigger as he steadied the gun and tried to focus his masked vision.

The Walker issued a quick last glance to an undisguised panic in Nick's eyes and rose to his feet with hung, defeatist shoulders and a marked face of pain. He stood square to the barrel of the gun and fixed stares with Lampard.

Their eyes met with unsaid words but clear understanding.

Lampard pulled the trigger.


	47. Rile

The war was escalating. The Gunner's group had almost been cornered, the six of them fighting in a semi-circle, backing away to the only small gap in the much larger circle of taints and servants surrounding them. Swords clashed and gunpowder flared. The fight was seen between strips of moon shine and flashes of guns. Movements were jagged like being under strobe lighting. The spits took down a few, but more taints would appear behind and fill the gap created.

It was soon that they didn't have the time to keep reloading to keep the enemy at bay. They drew in.

"Put down your weapons!" yelled an extremely strong but effeminate voice in a gruff, Scottish accent.

A servant at the front dressed in clunky armour stepped forward and removed a chain mail mask from around her face. A woman with the appearance that could only be described as a witch, breathed heavily and held a sword out at arms length. Her entangled hair was clustered in lumps and her jaw meshed at a funny angle on one side. Her teeth gnarled crookedly in her lank scowl. The other taints and servants fell immediately silent as she spoke;

"Where's Talbot?" she demanded, shifting her eyes to the side of her head but not turning round to face the other servants.

"He's gone AWOL," replied one of the dark crowd after a moment of hesitation.

The woman servant pulled her lips into a dirty smile then issued a loud nasal snort, chewing the inside of her mouth.

"Bet the Walker's happy with that," she huffed.

"He's missing too, ma'am."

Her face turned hideous with the news but after a moment turned into an even sinister knowing glow.

"Or… who's to say he not right here with us?" she cackled at her own thought and pondered it with a sigh, but bravely dismissed it.

The Gunner and his group were taken back by this brief flaw in occurrences. They lowered their weapons but didn't put them down. Mouth agape, the Gunner stood speechless. He heard a whistle coming from his left.

"Wow," said Gurk, "Didn't know a woman could fight like that. Will you marry me?"

The woman jabbed her sword forward in a crazed splice to intimidate him. Gurk's eyes widened and he held up his hands and grinned.

"I like them fiery," he winked.

The woman growled like a mad dog and the Gunner elbowed Gurk in the ribs with a sharp warning look.

"What?" Gurk said innocently, "Witchy loves me really, don't you Witchy?"

Even with his bottom lip quivering, Driver saw something funny in the way Gurk was talking to her and the way her face broke into a ravenous rage. Spittal flew from her lower gums as her mouth frothed with foamy sputum. Gurk laughed.

"We've just got a get you a makeover or something. A hairbrush."

She marched forward and shafted her sword to Gurk's neck, raising his head high as the sharp point tickled under his chin, knocking off any humour left on his face.

"Woahhhh," said the Gunner, palms up, walking round the side of the woman to be between her and Gurk. "He's a firecracker that one. He means no harm."

Witchy gruffed a dry hock of phlegm to her mouth and spat it at the Gunner's boots. She turned her back to him, pacing between him and the taints stood ready at a close distance.

"But yeah…" said a cocky Gunner, "I guess you're bum does look big in that armour."

Driver couldn't keep back a snort of laughter. The woman rounded back quickly, grabbing a fist of the Gunner's coat near his neck and pulling him down with surprising strength. It didn't deter him.

"I mean, what is this, the middle ages? Just get some Kevlar or something. It's much more slimming."

She threw the Gunner to his knees and he rode a wave of pain through a smile. Two larger servants came and restrained his arms around his back, pinning him to remain on his knees. Witchy flipped the sword around with her fingers and punched the Gunner deep in his stomach with the butt of it. He oomphed and his head crippled over his abdomen with tight shut eyes. He breathed heavily for a moment before turning to wink at Gurk to say:

"Couldn't have you being the joker now, could I?"

Gurk smiled and the Gunner turned back around, feeling slightly sheepish under his jester exterior. There were huffs of impatience and restlessness coming from the crowd of taints, scraping the ground back with their hooves and claws and the servants clanking their weapons together. The Gunner rode through the pain in his gut. His brow creased as he heard a faint ticking from somewhere, he concentrated but couldn't set his mind to it. The woman inspected her metal gauntlet, holding it high and wriggling her fingers as the moonlight bounced off the metal curves. The Gunner thought she was doing it to intimidate him- her armour looked strong even against bronze- and she was probably right to think he felt threatened.

"I'm glad you find all this amusing, tin man," spat Witchy as she crouched besides the Gunner, "I'm not sure I could say the same for your young Master Maker…"

The Gunner's smile froze.

"George. What have you done to him?"

The Gunner's face was now alarmed with panic. A faintheartedness of dread and fear jockeyed his eyes.

Witchy flashed a foul, ugly set of teeth at him but no answer came from her.

"I'll kill you!" yelled the Gunner. He mauled against the arms of the servants holding him but couldn't wriggle free.

The unknown ticking became louder.

"It seems you keep forgetting our position of standing as servants. You can not kill us. But if you are to take us down, you and what army?" said Witchy, sporting a victory snarl.

"Everyone's!"

The voice came from behind the crowd. A bold exclamation which made everyone turn and gasp. The Gunner saw a small gap in the crowd part and said a silent thanks to the heavens.

The Clocker stood at the centre of the freshly arrived lot of spits, soldiers from all regiments, ministries and forces, some on stallions which rose on their hind legs with a tremendous brutality, hailing war cries. Brimming with weapons and a rising energy of adrenaline, the crowd stood ready on their toes, guns and swords held ready ahead of them. Grabbing a long staff with knifes strapped on, the Clocker swung it in a big circle with a sharp swish.

There was a swoop of air being pushed to the side as the archangel St Michael reappeared out of the sky and dropped in between the two servants holding the Gunner, chopping them down as he landed. The Gunner rose to his feet and pulled back the hammer on his gun. He caught the Clocker's eye. Smiling like a cunning fox, the Clocker licked his lips and his group charged forward with his commencing words;

"Cavalry's arrived."


	48. Sense

"No!"

With a wail Nick flung her self sideways.

She didn't hear the noise; the bang of the bullet ejecting from the shell, twisting in free suspension as it punched through the air. It felt weird. That's all Nick could describe it as. Something didn't add up. She closed her eyes. Something ran past her, she couldn't be sure but a shadow had past her eyelids so she'd presumed it. She opened her eyes again. The level of the floor looked closer but it felt like she was still standing. The line of alignment, the horizontals and verticals between objects and people had tilted. There were some noises. Nick couldn't tell what they were or who was making them. She wasn't sure if they were even real or something her mind was just throwing in to fill the blanks. The strings of different wavelengths reaching her ears were missing each other or overlapping, just not matching.

Somewhere the colours had escaped. It wasn't black and white but imagine you put everything you saw in a washing machine. All the colours had run together. Nothing had a definitive edge to it, no start or end. Before Nick could ever try to figure it out her mind skipped and she noticed something else. She almost missed it though, because it felt of nothing. In fact, she only noticed it because the thing she felt before was different. But it felt normal now. She couldn't feel anything. The cold against her skin, the hairs weren't responding to it. Her clothes even, she couldn't feel their weight. She couldn't feel pain.

Nothing.

Some people say that time slows down when you're about to die, but Nick wouldn't have realised that. In split seconds she couldn't think about anything other than what was happening in that very instant. It's in these moments that you don't realise what's happening. You don't know it's you. And if by some miracle the person recovers, they usually don't remember it. But Nick wasn't any usual person.

Nick did remember them, but only after they had happened, at the point when things started to come back to her. She looked down. Her hoody looked torn, a small hole barely a centimetre wide. Blood. Absorbing into fabric as it fanned out. But somehow that didn't seem right to her. She realised something was different with her, and she'd not noticed the impact of it before. She bled. The Walker didn't bleed.

She knew what had happened now, and she knew that she was falling and that someone's arms had grabbed her. She knew. But she couldn't _do_. She couldn't stop herself from falling. She didn't hit the ground though. In a weird way it was calming, the haze that fell over her, but she knew it was wrong. She knew she had to think. Knew she had to fight otherwise she would be lost to it. But it was hard. The hardest thing she had ever had to do.

Nick wished that her mind would return to normal quicker than this so she could finally make sense of the situation, but once again she felt herself slipping, not knowing which sense went away first, but knowing that the darkness had set in and that the only blurred colours left were creeping away, folding in on themselves from the outsides until they met in the middle and there was nothing.


	49. Surprises

Some people say that when you're about to die you're life flashes before you're eyes. But Nick wasn't any usual person.

There was white. Or was it black? Nick didn't know. Maybe it was nothing, but then how could it be seen? Either way it materialised into a form Nick did know. A room she was all too familiar with. The small wooden bed which used to irritate her because the pillows would fall between the gap in the headboard and the space at the back. The green quilt with the teddy on it. The flowery wallpaper which she would colour in and draw faces on because she hated it so much. In the corner was the small chair which had broke just before she arrived, but it was months later when someone came to fix it and found that it had already been fixed. Nobody knew how. Then there was the small window where she would often gaze from and name the stars. On the sill were a poem book and a lone drawing of a young boy and girl together. This was Nick's room at the orphanage.

Two figures started to become clear; a little girl sitting on the end of the bed, swinging her legs over the edge with excitement. The other, a man in a long coat bending over a table whilst setting something up. He turned, and as the face of the Walker came into view it was clear that it wasn't quite him. He looked younger but that wasn't it. It wasn't really to do with his appearance which even if a little neater, wasn't the thing. It was more to do with what was inside him. He seemed like more of a whole.

The girl giggled and clapped in delight as the cake was placed in front of her. She gazed at the brightness of the icing and the candles on top which reflected in her eyes. For a second she felt something, like a memory pressing itself into the forefront of her mind while she watched the flames dance about. She quashed the thought and the smile returned to her face. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"I wish…" she started, before cutting off and finishing the sentence in her head. She peeked one eye open, making sure the man would not sneak it away while she wasn't looking. He smiled at this. Then she opened both eyes and blew the candles out. The smoke inside her nostrils gave her an unpleasant feeling inside and in her mind she heard the memory of a scream which often plauged her nightmares.

More talking happened but it turned hazy, somewhere something had changed. A shout was heard. Someone running. But it wasn't from this world.

The girl's laugh became focused once again. The Walker looked at the large clock on the wall, so very grand it was for the small, unkept room. It's ticking was so loud it was like it was trying to puncture space with every beat. He frowned and became more aware of the dark presence of the Stone's calling tugging at him from inside his stomach. He went and knelt down besides the young Nick.

"This is for you," he held out his hand and she did the same. He placed in her hand a small, round pearl. "Look after it. One day it might be very important to you. Be a good girl now, okay?" he ruffled her hair and walked to the door.

"Johniee," she called, and the tone of disappointment became clear to him, as it always did, when he was leaving her, like he always did.

"Goodnight sweetheart," he replied.

He looked at her as she stared back with sad eyes. He closed the door behind him, only, it didn't close. It wasn't seen to be closed. In fact, the door had gone, and so had the room. There was the nothingness again as it was before.

"Johnny."

Nick heard the sound and this time she recognised it. It wasn't the little girl's voice. It was an older girl. It was her, now, present. She'd heard that she'd said it but didn't feel her mouth move. It sounded too distant. She was back in the state of half remembering. She had fallen, but she hadn't hit the ground. She had been caught. Her eyes turned. She knew this not because she felt her head move but because the rest of the room had moved together.

"I'm here," said the voice she knew, the voice she understood. It sounded loud and surprisingly close. And was there a hint of something else in that tone?

The Walker had been in the line of fire, but Nick had been forgotten about and had dived in front, and as she was struck, she leaned and fell straight into his arms. He bent down now, wrapping an arm around her back to keep her off the floor and her head up. It was only seconds since the shot had been fired and Lampard had run back towards the Stone with George running and shouting after him.

"It's me," the same voice said again. The Walker held her.

"Go," Nick tried to say, vaguely issuing a finger point after where Lampard had head off to. "Have to…stop him."

"He's gone."

"No, he c-can't-"

"It's OK."

"He k- he k-,"

"I know."

"He killed them... he killed them all!"

The Walker shivered at all the grief and helplessness contained in her voice, but it was backed up by an undercurrent of burning destruction and hatred that spooked him even more. He was hearing all the pain she'd ever felt, screaming out. In that voice was the dark part of her soul. The part he knew he'd created.

But it wasn't strong enough. He did nothing except hold her tighter as her sobs rattled in her throat. Her hands had slackened on her chest and the blood that was coated across her hoody was thick and sticky and gushing.

"It's too late," he whispered.

Nick held his stare and tried to move to point towards him but the effort was too much.

"P-pock..." she said before wincing through pain and making a wrasping noise that gurgled out of her throat. She saw a flickering light from somewhere close but then her eyes fluttered and rolled backwards.

With one free hand the Walker reached into his pocket of his long coat and understood what she wanted.

There was a snap.


	50. Lost

Edie had never run so fast before, so going up the flight of stairs drained nearly all she had left. She quickly glanced to the right. London Bridge lay ahead of her. She knew it would be safe on the other side of the river but if the taints followed her she would have trouble getting back. She needed to stay on the North bank. Her decision was made in an instant and she ran left, away from the river back towards Cannon Street. A gabble of huffing and heavy flapping proceeded behind her, but when she looked there was nothing there. She realised that Nick must have created a diversion; the sound she could hear was the echo of taint noises passing underneath the bridge beneath her on to Lower Thames Street.

A high-pitch whistle erupted into the still air around her. Edie remembered what the Gunner had said. She ran on forwards until she reached the Monument. The large, strobe lighting illuminated the long column into the night's sky. On top she could just make out the small figure of a bronze boy and a gather of other spits in uniform. The little boy noticed the girl below and whistled using his fingers, trying to grab her attention. Edie looked and saw the boy point ahead down to Cannon Street then crossed over his arms to make an 'X' shape. At the same time there came a barrage of shooting from the top of the column. The uniformed spits were firing down the line the boy had just pointed to. Some growls and shrieks echoed in the distance and Edie understood there were taints there, somewhere ahead. She ran to the opposite site of the street and hid behind a skip to take cover while the shooting continued. She peeked over the top and noticed the dragons carved into the top of the plinth were not moving, luckily.

She took the moment to regain her breath and thought about what was happening. Her arms were trembling and she at last realised that she was scared. Terrified. The adrenaline that had kept her level-headed to this point was wearing off, and now she was thinking, and the dreaded fear was taking over. She could hear it in her breath, the shakiness of it, stuttering wildly as she regained oxygen.

She felt awfully alone.

Another separate onslaught on gunfire and shouting echoed off from the distance. A torrent of blurred clatters, chimes and smashes. Edie wondered if it was the Gunner's group. _Had the battle started?_

The Gunner seemed far away right now, Nick might still be running into the distance being chased and she had no idea where George was. Edie really was alone. A hasty flush of nerves swarmed and encircled her mind. Nick had told her all this information about being a Key, about how Keys could stop the Stone. And Edie was the person to do that. Edie had chased after the riddle clues not really thinking about the full extent of it all. She had just accepted it because everything had happened so quickly and they had done so well and now it was all finished and solved except she was still left wondering how any of it actually helped.

She was still none the wiser.

She had no idea.

What was she thinking heading down here without a proper plan? Just marching in and thinking she could take the Stone down just like that. She had a worried thought; What if everyone else expected her to know? What if they wrongly thought that drinking the water in the underground pool gave her some special kind of wisdom? If she was a Key then she must know, right? What if they were heading into this battle willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good when the greater good didn't even have a clue!

"_What am I suppose to do?_" she whispered to herself, voice quaking.

She shivered as the cold shards of night air perforated her skin. Her breath escaped her mouth as tendrils of icy mist.

Her eyes were attracted by a movement of shadow in the distance. It wasn't much; just a flash of small shade billowing across the small crop of light radiating from a lamp on the corner of a building at the end of the street. She looked but could see nothing. Then her head swivelled the opposite way as another shadow swept nearby. Edie's heart pumped fast.

Her head turned again but stopped suddenly as her eyes caught a figure ahead. It was only small and it took a few seconds for her mind to wipe away the rising layer of fear disguising her vision with her nightmares. Edie blinked and the figure was gone.

Gone.

Just like that.

Was it real? Had Edie really just seen a rabbit in the middle of the street?

A shiver ran up her back and her body shook itself involuntarily. Things were going from bad to worse. She was cold, hungry, alone, and now mad.

Another shimmer of light and Edie's eyes darted back ahead. There it was again. It was. It was real! Now Edie had a better chance at looking at it and realised it was in fact a hare. A hare of bronze with the longest broad legs and pointed straight ears she's ever seen. It sprang suddenly but her eyes could just about follow it. Leaping a distance unthinkable for its size, bounding with speed and agility as its legs blurred with the air, it ran at Edie stopping only a moment's breath away from her, before springing back with bounce towards the column. It did this twice more in mere seconds.

There was another shout, closer this time and Edie jumped. A winged taint had smashed into the railings in the cage at the top of the column and ripped apart the bars. A yell from the top of the Monument rang out and Edie looked up to see a large lump of bronze tumble over the broken railings and descend, falling through the air flailing around with great sturdy arms until the spit smashed on the floor, littering the road with large chunks of broken sculpture. More shooting fired back from the top while a steady thunder of running bounded ahead in front. Like a wound coil Edie threw herself back up and ran back towards the river. She had crossed halfway onto London Bridge when a flash of fur skimmed past and stopped a yard ahead, causing Edie to stop so suddenly, the muscles in her legs pulled with the strain and her balance toppled forcefully onto one side. As she fell she felt her hand get sucked towards the wall of the bridge. It was so powerful that she didn't have a change to resist. Terrified, she yelled out as her fingers fused with the stone, her head got yanked back, and her hair blew out all around her.

She screamed as the light blinded her in a whirl, spinning her mind and balance and shaking her bones. She felt a sharp pain branch out from her knee and she opened her eyes to almost total darkness. There was the fuzzy, black outline of houses and square signs overlooking shop fronts, hanging out above the street. There were no lamp posts. The only light came from flickering candle light just showing behind the gaps of closed curtains, from which no light seeped more than a few centimetres into the adjacent gloom. It was dead. The kind of silence that is so unheard of in a city that it makes it wrong and suspicious.

With a flash of light and an upheaval of her stomach, Edie saw that the road was actually the old London Bridge, and now she was at the end of it she could look across the Thames and see the houses that lined the bridge on either side.

A horse neighed in the distance.

Another flash and she saw a young person walking briskly and intently with impossibly silent steps. A drape covered the hair like a hood and hung down low into the face. The hands were buried into the clothing and the unknown figure carried forward quickly with a bowed head.

But another person with quick, equally silent steps and longer strides was following up close behind, and Edie saw the follower draw out something from their long coat. It was too dark to see but it managed to catch some light of its glistening blade even though the darkness was solid surrounding it. As time skipped Edie heard a scream and then the images of London were back again. The taller person who was following now crouched at the side of the bridge, and less obviously, the smaller figure had sunk down, half squatting, half lying down awkwardly on the floor. The injured person grasped onto the stone wall of the bridge in what Edie realised to be the exact same spot she herself had fallen and touched it.

It was in fact a young woman who was injured, and held her eyes tightly shut as their other hand shook violently with the rest of her body, trying to steady her shoulder. She made short, wrenching gasps. There was a small, humourless chuckle from the perpetrator who crouched in closer to the wounded one, and pointed the knife at the victims face.

"_You want to be the Shadow?" _said the woman's voice._ "I'll mask you up so bad that no one will see that pretty face of yours again."_

Nick screamed as the knife was raised again but hands grasped around the witch-like woman and pulled her away. There was a scuffle as the Walker came into Nick's view and she saw him prize the knife out of the woman's hands and push her to the floor.

The woman fell awkwardly and stayed on the ground, holding her hurt wrist close into her chest, throwing him a look of distain. Then the Walker looked down on Nick as she stared back at him and twitched as painful spasms reached out across her body. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide with unspeakable pain. He knelt next to her and moved in closer, peeling back the clothing around Nick's shoulder. She groaned then let out a scream-filled spike of agony as he inspected the damage- the knife had taken into the flesh just between Nick's neck and shoulder. The Walker's hand shot out and clasped around her mouth, blocking out the screams from the sleeping city. They looked at each other whilst fresh blood trickled out of her shoulder.

The Walker shook his head and then said back to the woman, "Is that knife-"

"Yes," said another voice, stepping to the side of the Walker from nowhere, making them both wonder just how long he had been witnessing this. The Walker stood up fast.

"You did this!" the Walker blared, and grabbed the other man by the lapels of his waistcoat.

"How Aemilia feels about this has certainly gotten out of hand, but what she has done is no burden that I should carry on my conscious."

In a quaint shimmer the man stepped back out of the Walker's restraint, brushed down his waistcoat with his hands and straightened it up to be trim and proper once again. He opened his gold pocket watch and nodded.

"This is your doing," said the Walker again, "and now she will bare the scar forever and the pain that goes with it."

"My knife is extraordinarily powerful, and as a gift, Aemilia was probably the wrong person to hand it to. But still, this has no reckoning on my part."

"You knew she would go after her."

"Proove it."

They locked steely eyes at each other and the Walker went back to looking at Nick. Her eyes had gone cloudy and her head seemed illly supported on her neck. She seemed oblivious to what was happening around her.

"No medicine will help her?" uttered the Walker.

"No amount of expertise in your field with surfise," said the man, who calmly pushed his hair back across his skull.

"The Stone…"

"The knife is beyond its power. The Stone may be able to spare her life but it will not be able to heal her. However…I may be able to offer a little bit more."

"You think you're going anywhere near her with your treacherous, dirt power-"

"Necromancy is nothing to be frowned at. I know how the knife works, Dee, after all, I designed it. I dare say that along with some faith healing it may be all that can be done for her."

The Walker tried to think of anyway around this problem. He could see through the man he had known for years. Knew why he was offering his 'solution'. But the Walker knew there was no choice for him and he was left with no other standing. He found himself saying the exact words he'd dreaded to hear exit his mouth.

"What do you want, Talbot?"

The man stepped in closer and the corners of his lips curved upwards in a handsome display of stunning success. But as he stepped up to Nick and crouched down, hovering his hands over her frail body before he set to work, his eyes showed everything the Walker feared: the flash of knowing, the intent, and the Walker then knew the scales had tipped against his favor.

Nick saw the man's eyes above hers, and to her blurred vision they appeared to float without a face. Unbeknownst to her, Aemilia had gotten up from the floor and was taking small steps backwards. The Walker saw her, and his eyes brewed anger, but he did not follow. Aemilia smiled and turned her back on them, whistling a familiar tune of London Bridge is falling down as she made her exit towards the Stone. The tune reached Nick on the slight breeze and followed her into her nightmares. Edie snapped her eyes open and felt her hand get released from the wall. She breathed deeply in the silence for a few seconds and looked around her surroundings, half expecting Nick to be there. What she had just glinted had felt so real.

What was it Nick had said? _'Just look around the City, you'll find me.' _She thought back to how Nick would wrap her knuckles across buildings. Up till this point Edie had thought it was just an annoying habit. A bit obsessive compulsive. But this was like Nick had been leaving breadcrumbs. A trail to her past. And that explained the mystery of her hurt shoulder.

She did not have time to think it over as another rhythm of THUD THUD THUD broke into her thoughts and she brought her attention to the hare. It looked at her for a second and raised its chin forward in a bob, almost as if to move Edie along.

"What the-?"

Edie's eyes adjusted and the hare stood in front of her. Then it was gone again and Edie only saw brown blurs spinning all around her. Suddenly it was gone and Edie looked all around before she saw the hare just left of the Monument. She looked quickly to the thundering sound of taint rage heading closer and with a heartily growl of confusion she flung herself back away from the river and down the street that the hare led her to. The hare leaped away from her and her breath burned as she ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

She took a right, running around the Monument, past the broken shards of bronze that lay of the ground and hoped she could catch up.

The cold wind stung her eyes as she whipped a few yards down the street looking everywhere for any sign of danger. The hare had now gone from all view. She looked back to see if anything else was following, then just as she faced back front a slow moving figure of a man swayed out from the column perch he had been resting on with the blue, lit up words; 'Peninsular House'. He almost fell coming down the steps to the street and flayed with his hands to steady himself on the air. Edie ran into the side of him. The man groaned and stumbled and Edie rocked unsteadily on her feet. She looked to him and noticed he looked old and crooked, and walked as if in a dream. His clothes were old and grimy, covered in holes and tears. And he stunk. Stunk of beer and urine. Edie took a step closer.

"Oh, I'm really sorry. I didn't-"

The man's face turned slowly and Edie's mouth dropped to the sight of the black, beady eyes staring right back at her. Then the man spoke;

"One glint. Running down Lower Thames. On the corner of Pudding Lane."

One of the Tallymen.

He spoke in the same idle and uninterested manner she'd heard the Tallymen use before, and it made her just as uncomfortable. He reached out to her and she lurched back, quickly getting out the way of his bumbling and lagging efforts that was accompanied by a drowsy and unfocussed expression.

THUD THUD THUD THUD.

Edie spun on her heels and saw the hare in front again, drumming a large foot against the pavement. She hot-footed it down the rest of the street but once again the hare was too fast for her and she lost it. Luckily the street was unguarded by taints and she very quickly ended up on a much wider road. She looked around, quickly safeguarding herself. The Tallyman wasn't following, or if it was it was too slow to worry about.

She didn't know this area of London very well at all, but knew that Nick would know the streets like the back of her own hand. She would know exactly where she was going. Unlike Edie, who was lost. She sighed and scratched her head trying to find a sign. All the buildings around her were a higgledy-piggle of old stone establishments next to square, concrete blocks. The concrete towered over the stone but over towering itself were high rise steel and glass buildings. This was how the City looked these days, a metropolis mish-mash of randomly placed new offices and legal buildings against the old ones, all strewn over the medieval street pattern that the City had continued with for centuires. A large building caught her eye, which itself caught her eye back, as Edie looked at her own reflection in the dark blue glass. In small square windows the glass was chunked into random blocks, seemingly hanging onto the side of the building, defying gravity. The architecture certainly stood out, but she didn't know whether that was a good thing. Next to that building was the Old Billingsgate Fish Market; a much smaller and older building made of brown stone and columns that rose into arches. In the centre, a stone triangle rose out and up, leading to a fish shaped weather vain on the top, while the spit of Britannia was sat near. Edie recognised her from a coin.

Britannia was a tall, slender Goddess in a long Roman tunic. A silver lion's head was carved into the centre of a heavily decorated bronze cuirass breastplate spread down to her waist where what looked like leather creased to form a Pteruges, or skirt. A long cape attached to the cuirass ran down her back. A centurion helmet rested on top of her curly, fair hair. With one hand she rested a shield next to her foot, the Union flag blazed on the front, a pride emblem. With the other hand she held a long spear trident.

"Hello?" shouted Edie.

Britannia was crouched, sharpening the three spikes of the trident against a long, bladed dagger, and jumped as the word echoed of the stone walls around her before being absorbed into the glass. She looked down and jabbed her trident at the small girl stood beneath.

"Londinium shall not perish tonight my child. We shall try all we must. The dark perils will not rule, let it be known."

"Err, yes," said Edie. "I can help with that. I need to know, have you seen a hare run past here?"

"A hare?"

"Yes. Or a girl. Actually, forget the hare. The girl. A servant. Have you seen her. Must have only been a few minutes ago. Please, I need your help."

"Enemies tip the scale down the path you follow. Servant leads the trail of gremlins beyond…" she aimed the trident further down Lower Thames Street .

"Down there, okay. Thanks." She started forward. "Oh that servant, don't bring her any harm, she's on our side."

"An enemy is an enemy, but an enemy can also be an ally. I shall see that your words are foretold by," she bowed and raised her shield. "The fight is only the wait for happenings. The conquer is the master of happenings. Live long child."

Edie nodded, but was quite confused. She didn't have time to ask questions though. She started running straight away down where Britannia had pointed. Her sense of awareness became a lot sharper now. As she ran she listened intently as she glanced down side streets and up far ahead. A few times she looked back then up into the sky in case she was being followed. She hoped that she wouldn't run into any trouble.

Edie stopped so suddenly that her feet skidded across smooth tarmac, almost tripping. She heard a shouting from nearby but couldn't distinguish the tone or distance because of the distorted echoing. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck and arms. The adrenaline kicked in again. She was poised ready, like an antelope expecting a predator strike. Talking. Up ahead. It was clearer now, a man's voice. No, two men. A scuffling noise. Cracks and howls. Then silence. She figured out that the noise was coming from a nearby alleyway so she crossed over to the furthest wall from it and pressed her body close in the shadows and hid behind a building's support column.

BANG.

Edie's whole body jolted as the ear-splitting sound ricocheted violently around her. She clenched her eyes shut instinctively. Then a moment of stillness occurred when she really didn't know what was happening. It was like time had slowed down as her mind raced currents through her system setting up an account of what had just ensued. The bang- a fire- a weapon- a gun. It was a gun. Gunshot.

Then her mind blacked out completely but she was still conscious, and standing. A single thought had caused a fuse on her brain to trip out and she seemed to be running on an emergency backup generator that was making the movements needed to jump-start her mind back into gear. Her head drooped forward and her eyed looked down.

No.

She hadn't been shot. Her clothes were normal, the same colour. No rips. No blood. She felt her stomach with her hands and there was no wound. No injury. No pain. She heard another shout which seemed to be the vessel needed to hot-wire her brain back to normal use. She squeezed close behind the column, focusing on the opening to the alley once again. A man ran out, a run which was scattered and hesitant but was definitely moving forward. Edie blinked but the image remained the same. It looked like time was skipping. He had a gun in his hand and swore as he ran. Just then another figure ran out. George. Edie tried to call out his name but something kept it from escaping her throat. Her mouth hadn't even moved. The adrenaline now was paralysing her, forcing her into shock. George had now already left the street and it was pointless. Then lastly she heard another sound, a wry spluttering, she moved to look fully down the alley just in time. She saw a tall shadowy figure rising from the floor, a faint glow of something flickering by the side of its head. It was holding a bundle, an arm hanging down by its side.

Edie saw the Walker and Nick for a split-second, but the next, they were gone.


	51. Home

The surroundings changed quickly for Nick. She didn't even see it happen. All she knew was that it had happened because it was now different. Through the mirrors they had travelled to the apartment. For a while she watched the situation like it was far away, behind a screen, through a shroud of protection. She felt the Walker besides her and gripped his coat with a dynamic compulsion to feel something real, to represent an absolution, to know something in her enigma was right and therefore not a dream-like delusion formulated by some lucid hallucination or nightmare. A metallic choke congested her throat and spilled across her tongue and out her mouth. Her eyes found the crimson staining of blood on her hoody. The taste made sense. Then she happened to catch the Walker's face and his expression made it clear to her.

"No, no, no," Nick screeched.

Shock breached the depths of control and flung out a crazed reverberation of backlash affects. Disturbance, confusion, distress; all vultures of torture in an abyss of hell.

"I can't…I…" the taste of blood made her mind fuzz with disorientation. Colours swirled in front of her eyes. "W-why is this happening? I've seen you shot. You- you don't even stutter! I'm not healing. Why am I bleeding this much?"

Her complexion turned to white sand, her skin doused in perspiration, her drained arms quaked, her breathing quickened to shallow, intermittent wraps. The Walker looked at her and even though she looked timid and frightened, the misgiving in her eyes still showed strength and a sense of just. It was more a look of self appraisal and disappointment at her own failings rather than anything else. It showed her heart.

"Because you're more human than me," the Walker replied back quietly.

Hysteria followed Nick as her masked eyes fogged over and searched desperately to find meaning, but her mind was too busy working her lungs through hyperventilation. Pain came in waves; for a second she would scream but still be unaware of it even though it must have hurt. Other times it was a strong, piercing knife inside that lurched her into quick spasm.

Her breakdown spiked then eased quietly to a numb suffering somewhere at the back of her mind. She felt some pain now but it was a more nagging, prickly heat type feeling. Her thoughts lay silent as she stayed on her back, eyes watching the ceiling. Her hands eased and the pressure dropped. She felt blood creeping down the side of her stomach. She felt the Darkness slowly spreading, its black pulse dampening her soul. It didn't matter though. Right now- nothing, no one or nowhere was important. Time was irrelevant as she rested in a void of tranquillity; a flat nullity of existence. An emptiness sheltered by disconnections to instinct or impulse. A shy but assured compliance with unanimity and acceptance.

A force against her heart broke the forth wall and the scattered fragments of her heedless mind lost in the clouds reabsorbed into her inner being and the pain was relinquished once again. The Walker had left her on the floor for a moment to grab a towel which he now pressed against her wound.

"Salt," he said, pressing harder on the towel.

There were bottomless wheezing noises escaping from the pits of her lungs when she breathed through the agony of the salt stinging her flesh. Her chest rose and fell with a pulsing irregularity.

"It may not seem like it, but it's helping," he tried to reassure her.

"Walke-" Nick began, trying to congregate any strength left in her body. "We're home?" she smiled dreamily.

"Yes but shhhhh, try to relax. Breathe."

The Walker smiled too. She had never called it home before.

"Why didn't you t-tell me Lampard s-started the f-fire?" she said in a voice so strained it barely sounded human anymore. He knew that sentence would have sounded the same even if she wasn't in pain from the bullet. This was a different kind of pain. The feelings rarely shown on display in her teary eyes were almost unbearable for him to look at.

"Because I knew you'd do something crazy."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Her eyes welled into mournful half-moons and her lip quivered. He could feel her heart winding down and her breaths swallowing. His face relaxed as he held her and started to whisper an old poem. Nick recognised it from a book she'd been given as a child. She never understood the meaning behind it, but now the words took on their own meaning to her.

"_A milk-white Hind, immortal and unchanged,_

_Fed on the lawns, and in the forest ranged; _

_Without unspotted, innocent within, _

_She fear'd no danger, for she knew no sin."_

He paused and Nick continued;

_"Yet had she oft been…"_ they both felt the shudder through her body. _"Chased with h-horns and hounds,"_ she coughed violently but tried to speak through it. _"And S-Scythian shafts; and many w-winged… wounds…"_

Her eyes flickered closed. He shook her and they came back open. He came back with the next part;

_"Aim'd at her heart; was often forced to fly..."_ he sighed.

Nick took a big breath before finishing with

_"And doom'd to death, though fated not to die."_

He rested one hand against her cheek brushing her fringe out of her eyes and feeling down the coarse scrapes and cuts on her face from their altercation. He frowned as he wondered how deep lay the scars he couldn't see. The scars inside. The many he had caused.

He knew what it was like for her. He had seen that look in the eyes of many. It was inevitable. He had even been there many times himself.

Alone.

"Will i-it…it be…l-long?" A gabble of coughing and spasms of gulps followed from her.

"No."

The one word calmed her spirits. It was all he could say to her. He didn't want to lie at a time like this but it was all he felt he could say. He knew what he wanted to say. But it wouldn't make any difference because it wouldn't be her by then. He wanted to warn her of the light, the light he had seen so many times but with all the effort of thinking before those times, by the time it had gotten to it, he would forget. He could never stop walking towards it, just like she wouldn't, even if he warned her about it.

"You'll s-stay?" said Nick in a hard whisper, trying one moment longer to embrace the loosening hold she had on the world.

She thought she saw the Walker nod.

The darkness enclosed around her. She opened her mouth and without even knowing if he was listening or if any sound escaped her mouth fianlly said;

"I'm scared."

He looked into her eyes as she said it. He held her steady. Her breathing eased. The trembling in her hands slowed. He watched her fading away from the world. Her arm fell to her side. The sparkle in her eyes stopped and the lids closed.

She had gone.


	52. Track

The cold was making it impossible for George to feel his own feet pound the ground again and again in rapid succession as he raced down the street after Lampard. What had just happened? It was all too quick to fully comprehend, and he knew the shock and biting numbness weren't helping his recollection.

One moment he was next to Nick and the next…bang. Nick was no longer besides him, and everything fell apart after that. He'd seen a startled look pass across Lampard's face in that vacant window of destitute time. The moment the Servant had realised his bluff caused a happy satisfaction in him, but it was worrying because his misdoing could work out very unfavourably with the Stone. He'd then started running, presumably back to the Stone to clear his name and make all aware of the betrayal.

Before George had been captured he'd heard hidden whispers from servants, all speaking of Nick like it was blasphemous to go against the Stone's plan. The whole notion was taboo and some servants were even scared of Nick like she was some powerful goddess about to bring destruction to the world. She was definitely the prime mover in all this and George had very much started to doubt the credence of Nick's innocence.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

George had instinctively thrown himself into a run behind Lampard in brisk fashion. He doubted his hasty decision now, Nick was probably dead and he had just left her. It was hard to call her a friend but she didn't deserve to die. Thinking about it, she was only one of a select few who understood this world the same way he did. Instead of landing on it, she'd been pushed into it; just like him. He knew he would be crying right now if the cold hadn't dried his eyes from any moisture. He knew denial when he felt it, and now it was a fickle tangle of chains around his heart. _Nick couldn't be dead. Please, God, no. _As much as Nick was a mystery to him, he knew they couldn't do it without her, and he would trust her because it was their only shot. And the truth was he liked Nick. Strangely enough. She was odd- but as he believed- misconceived. She'd done bad things, terrible things, but he'd wondered about what he'd have done in her position and found himself making the same choices from the very limited options.

A glimmer of hope rescued him from doubt as he realised the curse could save Nick even if her wound was too severe. The thing he hated for keeping the Walker alive was the thing he needed to keep his ally alive. But would this silver lining be of benefit? Would it still be the same Nick after her cheat from death, or would getting dragged back from oblivion change her? Or would Lampard be able to tell the Stone about her and the Darkness finish her for good?

With immediate impact it struck him that his lungs were burning and he was falling further behind. The tail between him and Lampard was increasing and soon he would be near the Stone. He couldn't let that happen or everything they had been through, since the beginning, ever since he broke the dragon carving at the museum, would all be worth nothing. Maybe that was why he was brought into this world, the world of spits and taints and Stone servants. Maybe that's why he chose the Hard Way; so he could change things. He couldn't let it all end now. And he couldn't let Nick die for nothing.

Squeezing out any mourning or worry about Nick, he set his mind straight on what he had to do. Now even more worry flooded him as he remembered he was chasing after a speedy maniac with a gun with little hope of overcoming him. His mind worked on an impulse, he had made a decision and knew he could not let the Stone find out about Nick. He might not be able to stop him but might give Edie more time to do…whatever it was she had to do. He hoped Edie was safe. He had to stop Lampard even if it meant using himself as a barrier; just like Nick had.

"_Shut up,_" he heard his voice telling him.

He concentrated but his eyes deceived him and the ferret-like Lampard in front ricocheted about, bolting to slightly different spots, always changing his centre of gravity. It slowed George down because he didn't know where he was aiming. A flutter of vast sorrow hit him as he imagined Nick's lifeless body strewn out over the iced pavement and before he knew, he was lost in a blast of red powder. A volley gale of fine dust that chocked the back of his lungs, bleached his vision and set his course astray with unbalance. He stumbled, hands feeling around blindly, ghoulish whispers swarming around him from nowhere. Something hard cuffed under his leg and tripped him. Lampard was right besides him, when only a second before he had been ahead.

George hit the ground and scrambled to find his footing but a loud 'click' made him freeze. George turned slowly onto his back. The red mist diminished and the outer-worldly whispers died. Lampard came into view holding the gun to George's head. The shaft of the gun was so close that George could smell the residue of powder from the previous shot, the shot which had hit Nick. Lampard smiled and a row of perfectly white teeth were visible. He brushed his greased hair back into style, brushing his hand over the torn ringlet scars around his ears.

"Your days of making are over, boy," Lampard said, finger steadying on the trigger.

There was a swoosh and a flap and then a snap. Suddenly the gun was no longer in Lampard's hand anymore. He looked around and a great wheezing sound was made as something flapped under great pressure to regain altitude. The gun in its mouth was crushed under the great stone weight and discarded.

"Gack!"

"Spout!" George yelled.

"Go Eigengang!" the sound coming from its pipe mouth came out as a shriek squall of rushing wind.

As Lampard was looking up confounded as to why a taint had just stopped him, George swung a punch which this time connected. Lampard's body was stunned as the forced took impact and knocked him backwards. He was then knocked sideways by the great stone mass as Spout swung back down and crashed over the side of his head. Lampard was knocked out flat.

Spout fluttered in the air and then swooped again, grabbing on to George with a heavy thump and an 'oomph'. Spout heaved him up and the two rose into the sky.

"No, the other way. I need to find Nick," George shouted.

"Shis gawne Eigengang, sweits neoud helgh," replied Spout, which George only just managed to translate to understand as 'she's gone, Ironhand, spits need help'.

What did gone mean? George thought, wondering if the wetness in his eyes was from the sharp wind or something else. Something unimaginable. And what trouble were the spits in? George couldn't argue. Spout continued on course, flying back over London towards Cannon Street, chopping through the air as quickly as its small wings could carry them.


	53. Gone

_Where had she gone? _

Nick saw white. If felt like the nothingness that she remembered from before, but this was definitely white. What she didn't know was if she had her eyes open or not. It felt like she had. She proved it when she looked down and saw her body and her hands examining her hoody. Looking down towards her chest felt like it was important but she didn't know why. Some nagging point in her mind was telling her something she didn't understand. A thought like she couldn't feel something, like there should be something else going on, like there was something missing. Something she couldn't see. A weird reminiscence. She knew the thought, she held it in her mind but it was fading quickly. Too quickly to secure a grasp on. And then it was forgotten.

The white started to fade and she saw her shadow. Except it wasn't at her feet, it was in front of her. She could reach out and touch it. But there was no wall in front of her. She looked behind to see a light, a light so bright that it made the white from before look less like white. It was intriguing. She started to walk towards it; it never hurt her eyes as she would have thought. She came close and something shifted. It felt like the floor she was on was a scale, and by walking towards the light she had tipped it. Gravity had changed. Only, she didn't feel like she was on a slope at all. She was pulled to the side to hit against the crack where the white light was coming from. The crack opened and red flew out. All the white which was actually less-than-white was now red and Nick grabbed on to the sides of the crack as it opened further. She felt like she was falling. But not falling down, instead she was falling sideways. The crack widened again so that Nick could now only hold on to one side. The thing she felt of as gravity shifted again so now she did feel like she was hanging down, instead of sideways. Her mind span from the rushing of blood in her head caused by the great change in pressure. She sneaked a peak towards her feet and saw a never ending drop of red light. She didn't know why, but she was more scared than she ever had been. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew she mustn't let go of the side. A shadow passed across over her. She looked up. A figure stood there, its feet next to her hands, standing on what was once the side but now was the top. It held something like an axe, but long and curved and wickedly sharp at the end. The figure was indistinguishable. Nick knew that she couldn't hold on. Her arm muscles were cramping, burning, screaming at her to let go. Whispers filled the air around her. She couldn't make out what they were saying but could tell there sense of urgency. She called out to the figure but no sound transferred through the air. The figure lifted it's axe right above its head, and right above her hands. The red light shined on to it. It looked like it was covered in blood. She thought she heard a bang. Like a gun. She tasted a metallic substance. A sharp pain rose in Nick's chest causing her to scream, but nothing was ever heard.

The blade sliced down.

Nick let go.

Now Nick could hear her self screaming. Something had got her. The only thing wrong was now she could see objects and more colours. She went silent. She came to realise this wasn't wrong at all, it was the opposite. She wasn't in the red light anymore, but back in the apartment. The Walker had grabbed her shoulders, supporting her. Nick breathed heavily for air. She was trembling.

"What h-happened?" Her voice was barely recognisable.

"You saw what the Stone wanted you to see."

"So it w-wasn't Hell?"

He was bent down next to her. He wrapped a blanket around her. Nick realised he wasn't going to answer.

"Th-hank-s," the shivering of her body had also infected her voice.

"Drink this."

He held a small goblet full with a liquid of a dull glimmer of golden brown elixir. She didn't bother asking the question again.

"W-what is it?"

"Just drink it. It's something I made. It'll help."

Nick obeyed and let the substance dribble down the inside of her throat. It tasted horrible but almost immediately warmed her insides and made all her pain feel light and fuzzy- not gone, but at least a little further away. She took another small sip and it was like rich toffee soothing her dry throat and she felt even better. She didn't even feel the pain anymore and every thought running through her head, every importance, didn't seem to matter as much. She didn't feel like the same girl that sat here a few moments ago, and she didn't share her problems. She lifted the goblet to her mouth again.

"That's enough," said the Walker seriously. He snatched the goblet out of her hand.

He walked over to a small grimy sink with broken tiles and crumbling plaster. He chucked the rest of the goblet contents down the plug hole with a repulsed look on his face. He rubbed his eyes and sighed, swilling the sink out, making sure all of it had gone before returning back to Nick.

She felt weird; the pain was returning but stayed at a level she could cope with. She stayed on the floor whilst her mind came back slowly. She wondered what would have happened if the Walker hadn't stopped her drinking the rest of the goblet. And she wondered how much of that stuff he'd drunk during his lifetime.

"The Stone wanted a way of showing its servants that it was in charge. It wanted to show us that our immortality should not be taken as a way of retaliating against it. If they did, they would suffer the consequences of what it would be like between worlds."

Every time Nick blinked she could see the figure in red, the axe slicing down. Falling. She knew it would never escape her.

"If we don't get hurt too badly, we can sometimes heal and escape it before it happens. But every time we're meant to die, we go there instead. The next time I see Lampard I'll…" he broke off and sighed. "All those times you sneaked off, retaliating and plotting against the Stone, I knew you were in danger of being found out. I tried to stop you but the Stone found out a few times. You should never underestimate the Darkness, Nick. E_ver_. It knows you're not loyal to it. It keeps you on side because it knows it can deceive you, use you. And you're a good little soldier for it, no matter how hard you try to defy it." His words cut into Nick like a knife. "I've taken the blame for you before, I've been sent to that place many times. Dying is something that servants get used to. The process numbs you so after so long, you even stop bleeding. It also happens quicker, but at a price of becoming further removed from your reality. When you've done it as many times as I have its almost instant from an onlookers point of view. You don't lose time in this world. It's quite intimidating to you're enemy. Doesn't make it any easier though. Inside your mind it's a different matter. What takes a second takes minutes. The set up might be simpler, but the in-between world is not something you can ever get used to. Every time you're there, you forget you're you. You're just stuck in that one moment, no other memories. A bit like a dream only it seems so much more. It seems real. It might _be_ real. I don't know. I'm above me. I'm sure you know what I mean. You shouldn't have saved me."

"I guess I owed you one."

The Walker shook his head. Nick remembered back to when she had seen him by St Pauls. Had the Stone punished him then because she had not been there when it called her? Then she thought of the list of names she had written from her travels. Not all servants wanted to return. She had written notes about the disloyal ones but had not planned to tell the Stone. The Walker had then told it all the names anyway but had not told it about Nick's own disloyalty. He mustn't have. He crouched down besides her and brought her to her feet. There was a tear running down Nick's face even though she hadn't felt her eyes fill up. The Walker brushed it away with his finger.

"You're friends are in danger. The Stone knows about the girl. It knows that she's a Key."

"What? How?"

"How does the Stone get it's information, Nick? Us. One of us saw you at Trafalgar Square".

"The guy in the white hoody," she sighed like she'd been fooling herself. Of course it was him. "What are we going to do?"

"Nick…there's no _we,_" he said laughing. "I won't help you. The Stone… you must understand."

"We can beat it. I know we can."

"Damn it, Nick! Why do you never listen to me? I couldn't even protect you from Lampard. What chance would I stand against the Darkness? Think about it. I gave you the gem and I gave you the riddle but that's all I can do. Maybe you could have done something…once...but it's too late now. It's already over."

"No it's not."

"Shut up. Just shut up!" The Walker went to backhand her but she stepped up to the mark, jutting her chin out at him. He held his hand back behind his head then exhaled. "Why can't you see this is suicide?"

"Because I've been drowning my whole life. If this works out then great but if not I'll just get what was eventually coming to me anyway. It's not just the Stone that's killing me slowly." The Walker hung his head as Nick spoke. "The way I see it, there's not much reason to stay and carry on being you're canary. Because that's all I am, a tool. The girl with all that power who can be easily woven into doing the dirty work. I'm malleable. Lampard was right; I am just a prize to you. It's for your benefit that you don't want me to leave. I'm just a device to get you power. So go on, lock me up, I know you want to stop me. Anything so I can still be your rat."

This time the Walker didn't hesitate in slapping her hard across the face. It split her bottom lip but she barely seemed to notice it. The Walker grabbed her chin and drew his other hand across her mouth so that it became streaked with her blood. He waved the hand in her face.

"This is how it starts. With blood. Next comes death and loss and suffering. You think you're the only one going through that, Nick? I had a family once. There's a war going on, and you started it. Not me, and not even the boy when he broke the carving at the museum. You. If you don't want to listen to me then fine. Go. Die. You don't deserve this second chance at life if you're just going to throw it away again. I don't care anymore. I'll kill you myself to save you the bother."

"I can't do this without you."

"You can't do this at all. I've got to go. You know it wants me there." Nick's mouth opened but the Walker cut her off; "It's good to see that you've still got a fight in you, you've always been strong, but please, listen to what I'm saying. It's all well thinking about the better life we would have without the Stone, but you're idealism of it is dangerous. That's all it is, ideas. It's not real."

"We could make it real."

After that both of them felt the tight twist of their stomach, the dizzy sickness that followed, and the drop of their hearts as they realised the Stone wanted them.

"No. We can't," the Walker said through gritted teeth. "Nick…" he sighed, "get to Cannon street, answer the call, and then get lost. I better not see you in the City again tonight. If you go to the Stone for any other reason, I'll be there and… I'm going to have to stop you."

Nick knew he meant it.

"You don't _have_ to do anything," she blasted.

"I don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice!"

Nick looked down her hoodie, the wound where she'd been shot had already healed. Only a small scar remained behind. The Walker sighed again.

"Don't say you've not been warned," he said, disappointed, with one hand snaking into his pocket. He knew he could not win. Nick had too much loyalty. Too much spirit. It infuriated him but it was what he hated to admit made her strong. Better even than him. "I'm not your enemy. Don't make me be."

Nick got up and felt energised, almost like nothing had just happened. She walked to the door where she stopped.

"I'm sorry," she said with her back to him, then moved through the door and closed it slowly behind.

"I'm sorry too," said the Walker into silence.

He brought his hand out of his pocket and span the jewelled handled knife in his hand, twisting it around so the light caught the newly sharpened point. He waited a moment for reflection. To see if his mind would protest. _That was wishful thinking._

To give Nick at least a head start.

Before he went after her. Because of course, he would have to do that. She was making it difficult for him and he'd been too slack on her recently. He'd been ignorant letting her go after the Glint. Things were starting to unravel faster than he'd expected. He was being pulled along this wave rather than riding on top of it like he usually was. It was dangerous.

A fleeting thought suddenly flashed alarm bells and his hand shot back to his pocket. It was empty. Nick's knife was gone. No. She'd taken it. After everything she'd just been though she still had the craft to be ingenious. And foolish. Very foolish.

His eyes widened in surprise and then tightened in anger. Any last traces of conscious or morality crumbled in front of his eyes. He grabbed his knife so tightly his knuckles turned white while he glared at it intently. He then got up and headed for the door after Nick.


	54. Control

Luckily Nick's home was not too far away from the Stone. By the time she had reached Cannon Street there was already a big commotion as the Gunner's group was deep in attack. There was a cacophony of bangs, clangs, shouts and explosions. Spits on bronze horses were thundering down the street knocking taints down like bowling balls. Kings, Queens, Generals, Field Marshalls, Sergeants, Captains, soldiers and every kind of martial spits were all involved. She saw the Gurkha throwing martial shapes nimbly around a servant. His quick reflexes were on hinge as he danced around the cramped space easily and swivelled the rifle around in the air. He jabbed the bayonet straight through the servant's stomach, who's body slumped and laid still on it. Gurk ripped the blade back through and stabbed another servant in the leg even before the first body had fallen to the floor. He was over by the Gunner with the Officer, the Fusilier, the Euston Mob and a bunch of other generals and field marshals all firing bullets behind a temporary barricade. At the far end, servants were ducking for cover and commanding other taints to attack. Another line of servants were at the front of the battle, some had guns, others had crossbows or slingshots and some just had sharp, threatening daggers and sticks with knifes strapped on. A smaller cluster was closest to the Stone- its inner protection.

Britannia was in the middle of things, jabbing her long pointed trident into the belly of a gargoyle. The Clocker was there too, having acquired a long sharpened staff from somewhere. He was twirling it around in his hand quicker than Nick could see. He was battering taints and chopping them down to the floor. Nick watched with an open mouth. She had no idea he could fight.

To Nick's surprise the Walker was already here. _He must have used the mirrors._ And then she realised he must have answered the call for both of them because she no longer felt the Stone's jab in her stomach. He was on the other side of the road. He held a long sword, presumably stolen by another spit as it was streaked with the same green colour as old statues became when corroded by air. He was in combat with Smith who had moved from Bow Lane when the first taint arrived.

Nick quickly had to dodge a spit-ridden horse being chased by a small line of hobbling taints. Then a scream erupted from further down the street. She saw the Brute holding a spit high into the air in one hand. The spit struggled to release himself but the Brute didn't even feel his attempts to escape. With a roar of wrath- something Nick thought could have woken up the whole of London- bellowing from the Brute's phlegm sodden gums, the Brute brought his arm down suddenly and the spit went splat. The Brute moved away with a grunt like it had gotten bored with its toy and went to find another. Nick looked in horror as the hurt spit sat on the floor wide eyed, his shaking body quivering and his legs outstretched in front of him, horrible skewed and criss-crossed at horrible angles.

Nick could not help but feel responsible. It was her energy which had broken his legs, and broken his hope. She was the culprit to blame, the judge, jury and… she watched the spit's upper half flop backwards and not move again…executioner. She was a murderer. The pit of her stomach became violent with acid. She staggered backwards and had a overwhelming sensation of wanting to get out. She wanted an exit. She'd never needed one so bad. Everything was swimming around her and she couldn't breathe. Vertigo threatened her and the horizon wobbled in her eye line. She was about to heave when she was knocked sideways by someone dodging a small ball bouncing of a wall and skittering along the floor by her feet. She tried to move away quick but skidded. She lost balance and fell onto a knee. On closer inspection she saw it was an old, steel notched canister shaped like a pineapple.

"GRENADE!"

She pulled her weight back onto a foot but it slid out ahead of her, so she tried to scramble backwards, backpedalling her arms and legs into fast synchronisation. Something yanked her arm and pulled her across the floor. She felt a cold hand pulling her knees up into her chest and felt a heavy weight wrap tight around her, trapping her against the floor just as the air got sucked from around them when the explosion from the grenade detonated. The large gulf of rushing air blew smoke and dust into Nick's face. She coughed violently, feeling the scorch of heat against her skin and the smell of burning in her throat. As quickly as it happened, she felt the weight ease and the hand pull around her wrist, dragging her to her feet and running forward at pace. Nick staggered blindly with clotted eyelashes. She drew her free arm across her face, clearing some of the loose debris away. There was smoke all around her, she couldn't see the surroundings more than a couple of yards away but could just about make out the back of the Gunner's tin helmet leading her.

Nick's shoulder hit someone at the same time a flash of gold landed on the Gunner's back. She heard him yell and felt his hand slide from her grasp. She fell to the floor, calling out his name, surrounded by a stampede of feet and hooves; lost in a mixture of stone, bronze, flesh and smoke all around her. She rose painfully to her feet, looking around but having lost her whereabouts. She made her best effort to run out of the pack of loud fighting, avoiding several areas of the ground which had caught fire. She wafted the smoke away from her mouth with her hand and coughed again. After a few more paces her hoody caught on a long, pointed stick and it snagged her neck, cutting off the air in her throat and raised her off the floor as her feet carried on and cart-wheeled her into the air. She landed on her back heavy. _How many more times was she going to have to lift herself up?_ _At least once more. _Every time was more painful than the last.

A high shout made her rise quickly as the Gunner came stumbling back into view; his hands wrapped around a huge gilded grasshopper stuck gripping to his head with powerful hind legs. Its segmented body and large beady eyes gleamed as its long antennae and snapping pincers reached forward, ready for a strike. The Gunner managed to get a hand between his face and the squirming insect, pushing it away slightly further with each strained second. His other hand punched the side of its head until it lost hold and dropped to the floor on its back. He slammed a foot hard on top and pulled out his gun. The hopper writhed all its legs, chirping and snapping its wings violently trying to level up. It wormed its way out from the grip of his boot. He fired back the trigger sharply but the noise of a zip being pulled was heard, and he saw his bullet embedded in a small hole in the ground, lying in the empty space the hopper had sprung from only a split-second before. He looked angrily around and his eyes found Nick, abruptly bent over, hands on her knees, crouching away from the swinging of swords with a pained look on her face. He squeezed from out the crowd and took her hand again. He dragged her up and they took the last few paces towards the barricade. She was pulled behind it and down into a crouch.

"Where's Edie?" Nick heard him say.

She coughed again as the dry air scratched her lungs. Her throat was so void of moisture that she found she couldn't speak and could only shake her head. That and because she couldn't admit it. She'd failed him. She'd broken his promise and lost his trust. She looked at the concern in his eyes and felt the guttering impact of guilt racking in her stomach, knowing it was her responsibility and her fault that their one hope was now alone and unprotected in taint territory.

"You okay?" he then asked.

"Spiffing," she replied, thankful in a surprised way that he'd even asked. He turned his head from the battle to eyeball her and look her over. His eyes then widened when he first properly saw the bullet hole and blood surrounding her hoody.

"…except for that," Nick finished.

"What happened?" the Gunner asked. The fear now in his eyes made it hard for Nick to bear looking at him.

"I'm sorry," was all Nick could say.

No amount of excuses or apologies could make things any better. She owed him an explanation, which was why she opened her mouth to talk but had trouble expressing the words. She didn't want to tell him that she'd tried to protect Edie. Or that she'd let the taints run after herself instead. Because it wasn't good enough. She would have to tell him about the encounter with the Walker and Lampard. She'd let him down, she could see it in his eyes, that abandonment of hope. That, she believed, hurt more that any pain the Stone could ever inflict on her.

"George?" the Gunner asked bravely. His delay seemed like a precursor of him trying to judge whether he could take another hit. He prepared for the worst.

"I've not seen him," Nick lied.

She couldn't tell him that Lampard had shot her or that George had run after him. George was an exceptionally brave and strong-willed Maker, but a lone boy was nothing against that murderer. She couldn't support mentally the fact that his chances against Lampard were slim, hopeless even. She couldn't tell this to the Gunner because she didn't know how much more he could take.

The Gunner was slow to react to the clatter of firing that slapped the air around them. They both ducked down. He brought her closer into the middle of the wall and rested his revolver on the top edge, firing off a few shots with the Officer at his side.

Nick stayed low, resting on one knee, not having the courage to sit down properly for the need of a quick getaway. She saw a heap of bronze crash to the floor from above and got her first real chance to look up.

The sky was having its own battle.

Skyrocketing through the night was a mixed group of winged taints and spits. Angels and gryphons, gargoyles and pterodactyls, winged lions and horses. All kinds of monsters and guardians battling it out above the ground. Seen mostly from below as shafts of moonlight dancing across the sky. She watched as a gargoyle lost a wing and then lost gravity, dropping the long way down back to Earth. Nick shuddered as it exploded into fragments when it hit the ground.

"Oh look, it's raining cats and dogs," said the Gunner, in a way which didn't make it a joke.

A swirl of gold caught Nick's eyes high up. And there, pivoting on an alcove window high on the opposite building, Ariel stood on her toes with a velvet delicacy, pirouetting in a ballet manner with joy. She looked down on the battle with a dainty smile and calmly hummed a light tune, just watching. Letting things play out without temptation of change, just as the minister of Fate she was. Acting like some divine entity with control over circumstance. Fate, destiny, whatever. Nick didn't care much for those things right now. No matter who the spit was- or what she stood for- Nick glared at her with hostility as her skin crawled with the knowledge that Ariel- kind-looking and seemingly considerate, Ariel- could look upon this devastation heartlessly without a care in the world. Nick had seen her fair share of horrors in the world. Sometimes having to turn a blind eye to them. But she always felt for the suffering of people. Always.

Something from the end of the street caught her attention. A taint was flying towards them. It looked strained by the load it was carrying, something weighting it down so it only escaped the crowd of battlers by a daring few feet above their heads. When it got closer Nick realised it was carrying a person. A servant? No, too small...

Nick gasped when it struck her that it was George. A sickly relief bailed over her. Her heart raced and she found she could only watch and not move. In a move which confused Nick to no end, the taint lowered George carefully to the ground. It stayed hovering above him and when approaching taints got too close, it would swoop and take a chop at them.

She looked at the Gunner but he'd already seen him too and had a big smile on his face. Nick wondered about the taint, but as long as it was protecting George instead of trying to kill him, she was fine with that.

Nick wondered what had happened to him. Had he actually fought Lampard and won? Lampard couldn't be dead, of course, but she felt a swelling pride for his courage in the heat of it. George caught Nick's eye and an abrupt flash of acute disillusion swung across his face before the relief hit. An expression Nick would have laughed at if there wasn't other things to think about. She gathered it must have been a surprise for him, having just seen her be murdered, now looking like a ghost.

But before he could ask or she could explain, a piercing bellow erupted from the core of the battle. George gasped as he saw the real Brute in much closer detail than he'd like. Its chimp or dog head- he couldn't work it out- writhed and snapped whilst slobbers of phlegm oozed and hung down out of its ferocious snarl. Its jagged spine arched with bulk, contracting muscles as it blundered through the crowd in their direction. A small shoot of air soared above George's head as Britannia swiftly and nimbly shot onto the Brute's back, thrusting the three sharpened points of her trident into its scaly skin. The supernatural monster howled and twisted so violently that Britannia was thrown clear and slammed into the side of Spout, the pair of them crashing to the floor. George threw an abashed look at Nick, a look of pure horror and disgust and…disappointment. She understood immediately: he knew. He knew it was her doing. The Brute was her creation.

George retreated hastily and ran off away from where Nick could see.

Nick peeked over the edge of the barricade and could now see the Walker and Smith fighting again. His fight skills were impressive. Smith towered over him and his swings were packed with force, but the Walker had surprisingly nimble and supple moves which ran fast around the weightier spit. With quick agility he ducked as Smith swung his sword around, just passing over the Walker's head. He raised his sword in front of his chest as protection as Smith's sword came full circle and collided. There was a clang as both swords became deadlocked, they both pushed forward hard into each other, fighting for control. About to topple, the Walker flayed out a violent kick to the knee and another to the chest and Smith bent forward puffing out his breath, winded by the savage blow. Smith like always was enjoying the fight but the Walker seemed to have the upper hand.

The Walker's sword sliced down the side of Smith's and he stepped back for a moment of room. Smith lunged at him but the Walker raised his arm, knocking the dive off angle and swivelled around to be behind him. Out of the corner of the Walker's eye he saw the boy Maker bending down, creeping closer to the centre, camouflaged by a flock of taints which had decided to dispel and escape the chaos. The Walker's eyes then flicked to the other corner of the battle. He whispered something underneath his breath as Smith spun around, and saw this flawed moment of time as an opportunity to end it. He raised his sword back and then lunged forward, aiming the shapened point of the sword at Smith's heart.

"Stop!"

Someone crashed into the Walker's side and they spun half circle, both becoming disorientated until a savage instinct overcame the Walker and he grabbed the attacker and pulled them off balance to eye level.

"What are you doing, Nick?" said the Walker, eyes blazing but voice unnaturally calm.

Nick stayed still in his grip but didn't answer. It took a moment for the Walker to stop seeing red and understand the look on her face. She was wearing an awkward expression, eyes wide but lacklustre and unfocussed underneath, face too pale for healthiness, mouth unsure with arrested breathing and strength so weak that the Walker could feel her sliding towards the ground. He let her fall with a heavy nudge of his arm and Nick took to the floor, knees and hands curling up into her chest, her expression remaining the same.

A moan made the Walker drag his eyes away from her to the sound. Smith lay tilted back on his knees, then gasped, floundered and eventually toppled into a heap. His hands were unsteady, touching with uncertainty the long shaft of the sword as it emerged from his thorax.

The Walker looked back and forth between Smith and Nick's condition. He could see sweat gleaming off her forehead in cold shivers and the pain behind her eyes pleading with him.

"You didn't?" he said to her.

Whether the look in her eye told him the answer or something else, he didn't waste much time trying to figure it out. The Walker twisted and grabbed the sword with both hands, and plunged it into Smith's core. Smith cried out and Nick watched it happen. Pain scored up through her limbs and collided at her heart. She clutched at her stomach; a burning inside her had ignited, setting herself into a fit of fiery agony. She gasped excruciatingly like a fish out of water and a horrible sound emerged from her mouth like a wounded animal. There was an awful scrape as the metal sword jarred into Smith on impact and the Walker thought the sword would shatter. But by luck it held strong and twisted itself deep into the bronze of the spit. Smith was stunned. His dying breaths were guttural sounds; frail and weak as they escaped out of his mouth left ajar in shock. The Walker sneered and twisted his sword deeper into the bronze, churning whatever lay at the centre of the spit into curled shards of scrap metal. Nick screamed. The Walker looked back over to her, hunched over and staring straight at where his sword entered the wounded captain. He wretched his hand back, pulling the sword out in a clean sweep and Nick made a sharp yelp and her limbs went flaccid and she lay like a burst balloon on the floor.

With a growing understanding, the Walker's cogs that definitively sharpened his intuition, began to turn and his face evolved from startled to amused.

_Is this it then?_ Nick thought. After years of servitude they'd reached the Walker's breaking point, the madness being unfolded and the dark relish being unleashed. Is this the moment the Walker- who had shown something close to an allegiance with her during her confrontation with Death- who had stood by her and held her as an ally as she got taken from the world- would discard that as his tolerance for her finally snapped. Was this his payback for taking the knife, for disobeying his orders, by betraying him yet again? Was this the opportunity he'd been looking for, or the road circumstances had followed to leave him with this last option?

_I did warn you, _was all Nick imagined he was thinking right now_._

The pain inside told her that some part of her had just died. The part that was used to bring Smith back to life. The Walker had figured it out, just like he always did.

"You've killed me," Nick managed to expel from her mouth, dry as the desert with fire running in her throat.

The Walker stood for a moment then smiled. And as Nick felt the light start to dim and the colours fade away, she felt Death's claws reach towards her yet again, and she wondered if the release of it all ending now would actually be a saviour to her.

#######

"Tell me again, how are we supposed to kill an army of dead people?" yelled the Officer over the sound of firing bullets from a line of military spits. His face, musty from soot, was strife with doubt as he fired his fifth bullet into the belly of a servant. The servant staggered back with a howl but kept moving forward, only a small hole in his breast pocket and one exit point on his back to show for any harm done at all.

"They're not dead," said the Gunner, remembering what Nick had said, but when he looked to her, she'd gone. "Nick?"

"It's like whack-a-mole," said Gurk with a shrill laugh. "Pick the right ones and they stay down for longer."

His point became clear as he fired a bullet into the gut of another servant, who screamed and fell to the floor in a heap.

"We just need to bide our time," said the Gunner.

#######

Smith's eyes closed dead. Nick was not dead. She didn't feel it, not quite yet. She could not see the Walker's face, but she thought he might still be there, watching her with a grin as she lay weak. She didn't worry about her own pain, or even what the Walker would do now. She felt the loss of a good spit and also the fate of what was happening all around. Her mind swayed, unnerved with the dread of what was happening out the corner of her eye. She was aware that only a moment ago, the Gunner had frozen on the spot.

The Gunner's last words cut off in his throat. That happened before his body became bolt rigid and his gun slipped from his grasp. He was suddenly aware that something was wrong. He had been fighting, and now he had stopped. His arms were stuck and then moved, then got stuck again. Like he was a puppet attached to strings performing short, sharp robotic movements. His body twisted to a direction perpendicular to where George was. He didn't know what was going on. His body was moving but he was not making himself move. His feet moved with his mind disconnected to them.

He was under control of something else. Or someone.

He yelled. Quicker than lightning his legs flung him forwards and hurdled over the top of the barricade in a sprint, remarkably fast and somehow avoiding all the debris of statues falling out the sky and bullets flying past his head. He heard Gurk call out to him and ran past Nick on the floor. He knew where he was heading and called out a warning, but George had just a second to turn around before his chest was walloped by the great mass of bronze the Gunner was made from.

Nick saw the Gunner run, then saw the two of them collide, throwing George far back before his body crashed into the ground. The Gunner was on top of him and an almighty battle for control happened; the Gunner had George pinned under the bulk of his legs and George was trapped underneath trying to wriggle himself free.

"Gunner what the-"

The Gunner's hands reached out and pressed down hard around George's neck so that his throat was closed off, the air trapped inside so his unsaid words never escaped.

"It's not me!" the Gunner cried back, trying with all his might to make his body obey him. It seemed like the only part of himself he could control was his voice and facial expressions, both of which showed pure horror in their stance. He made a loud grunting sound as he pulled back and tried to resist but his hands only became stiffer, and George was now turning a darker shade of purple. His eyes were bulging and becoming bloodshot. His face coated with sweat.

"Oh my God," the Gunner whimpered.

Gurk was on him fast, trying with everything he had to tear the Gunner's hands away. But it was useless, the Gunner was exerting a strength far beyond normal and far too great to alleviate in the slightest.

Nick dragged herself to her feet, the pain slightly dying down inside her as the adrenaline took over. She looked around for help. Her eyes fell on to the Walker. He stood besides her, seemingly unbothered by all the fighting and proximity of weapons around him. She saw his eyes focused square on the Gunner and watched his mouth move in an unheard voice.

The Gunner moved so quickly that even Gurk couldn't dodge the unprepared attack. The Gunner pushed off George and fought as his hand made a fist and punched with force into Gurk's stomach, crippling him bent double, throwing him back into a wall where his head banged back into brick. Gurk dithered for a second before his knees folded and his body slid down the wall and collapsed. His hat was at even more of a tilted angle, covering half his face. The chinstrap was broke and hung loosely off one side.

The half second George had to take in any air was interrupted as the Gunner's hand pressed firmly into his neck again and the blood which hadn't yet had the chance to begin circulating again, pooled within his skull.

Nick looked in horror at the Walker, who had a cruel smile of satisfaction.

"STOP IT!" she screamed at him.

The Walker merely glanced at her with a look of defiance, and she edged back away from him. Nick was the guilty one, he knew that. She had led the revolt through acts of insubordination and this was the result of that rebellion. He was owed revenge. The spit had broken an oath to him as well as steeling his heart stones. The boy had gotten in his way for too long. He hated him. He had chosen the Hard Way and together him and the spit had stopped the Walker ever putting George's likeness on the Stone and thereby preventing his curse to be lifted some fraction. Next, George had trapped him in stone and left him to rot. And either him or the girl had released the Raven. He hated the Glint too, the girl who had cheated death. The girl who had blinded him. But he would have to deal with her some other time. He knew she was too crucial in the way things would play out. Nick's mistake of bringing them here was all their loss and her insolence would cost them all greatly.

Nick ran.

George writhed in pain under the weight of the Gunner who was yelling in dismay at the dreadfulness that he could not believe he was causing. His face was full of conflict, his mind screaming at himself as he looked down at George, who was about to pass out. His mind flashed back to the day this dreaded pact of betrayal was forged. Images stuttered in front of his eyes, showing and reminding him of the cause to this morbid situation. His own fault. Standing at the base of the Monument besides the Walker. Swearing by the hand that made him. Handing over all his bullets. Not all of them though. Not the last one. He did it to save Edie, and now George would die because of that. _That's bloody Karma for you._

The blood trapped in George's head was pounding, his whole body was screaming. His iris' flopped backwards leaving only the whites of his eyes present before his lids closed.

"No!" yelled the Gunner, screaming as his hands would not budge despite the internal struggle. He could feel George's pulse dying under his grip. "George!"

A spasm up George's leg brought his eyes open a fraction. The sight of the Gunner close to him was blurred by a red haze but through the pale borders of his sight he saw two hands reach around the Gunner's shoulders.

Nick had leapt on him. Her hands lifted the strength being forced down on George, and as her palm touched the bronze it sent a ripple of energy spreading across the whole of the Gunner's back. It had soon covered his chest and abdomen until it reached the tips of his fingers and toes. He crumpled backwards and hit the ground, sending his helmet flying. Nick was thrown backwards further and for a moment entered unconsciousness as her head bounced off the hard floor. She dragged herself to stand and stumbled to move away from falling bronze out the sky, but she was so punch-drunk that her shoulders sagged and one knee locked up. Her whole body swooned and collapsed in on itself. She hit the floor again.

This time she didn't move.

George, too, was static; his face clammy with thin burst vessels, his hands limp by his sides. Then through the deathly still his body gagged into life. His lungs squelched as he writhed on the floor, clasping his throat. His eyes were dripping, tears streaked down his face. He was gasping and coughing and sucking in large quantities of air.

The Gunner stayed lying on his back with a weird disjointed trail of thought and muddy disorientation. He felt that he was now in control of himself once again, but things still didn't feel right. He raised a hand above his head and the jolt of surprise left him solid on the spot. Except that was the thing, he realised; he wasn't solid. The fingers waggling ahead of him were his own, but they weren't bronze. They were flesh. Skin and bone and muscle and for the first real time in his life he felt pain. Real pain, not like the pain he felt usually, which was bad enough, but pain formed by neurons and sense receptors. He remained on his back breathing air, actual air. He could feel it cool the back of his throat. He felt his lungs inflate and his heart beat. He felt his pulse racing, his blood warming him. He felt his saliva in his mouth, the texture of his tongue, the fabric of his clothes pressing against his skin and his hair ruffling in the air. This was mostly what he felt before, or at least what he lead himself to believe, but now it felt totally new and at a higher degree. It was more finely tuned and focused. Like the same sense of overwhelmingness people get when they think their eyesight is fine, only to put on a pair of glasses and discover everything is so much clearer than they thought. They are amazed at the difference.

"Woah."

It was the first word to mind.

"Blimey."

That was the second.

Then another more explicit word came to him but he refrained from saying it. Even the vibration of his voice box producing the words sent new waves of sensations coursing through his body. He was more aware and conscious of everything happening. The noise from showering bullets was more real now, more terrifying, and they were passing centimetres away from him.

"Ding ding, round two," he nervously joked to himself as he rolled onto his belly, picking up his knees in to a crouch. He swayed unsteadily, getting his balance right while George bent down next to him.

"Nick…" George tried to explain to him, but his throat which he clasped with his hand was too raw, and the shock of what he was seeing was too great. The Gunner couldn't concentrate on his words because he was looking at his face. George looked stricken. He looked alarmed and panicky. He looked like he did when they'd first met; a small child stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time. He tried to speak to the Gunner again but his voice barely carried over the sound of the attack, so he jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

The Gunner looked and saw her strewn out gracelessly on the road on her back, eyes closed. He looked back to where the Walker had been standing but unsurprisingly, he had vanished. The Gunner ran over to Nick, amazed at how much quicker he could move now he was lighter and smaller. He gathered her up in his arms, she was light and easy to carry but for the first time the Gunner felt the pull of muscles, the workings of tendons and ligaments taking weight, and the feel of adrenalin in his veins. It invigorated him. He saw that the Commander was already walking away with his arm around a concussed Gurk. They all retreated back down Cannon Street, George covering them but getting into a tangle with a couple of taints. The Gunner wavered on the spot, wanting to save the friend he had unwillingly- and against all desperation to save- tried to kill. But a rhythm of arrows whistled all around him and he turned to cover Nick in his arms. George was gone when he next looked.

_One rescue at a time._

He retreated back to where they had built a temporary fort in St Pauls. There were hardly any taints here because of the patrol of spits. The place was full of them. The cathedral was under their control and it was their protection.

The Gunner lowered to his knees and gently placed the unconscious Nick towards the floor, an arm under her shoulders to keep her head up. She felt like ice. He checked her breathing- she was, just, but it was shallow and her pulse was the bare minimum.

He then turned to the Commander settling Gurk down on the floor, back propped up by the wall. Gurk's eyes wavered in lost focus. The Gunner caught his eyes and noticed the labyrinth of disordered confusion on his face as he stared back.

"You owe me a new hat," Gurk muttered in a large grin, a smile which quickly turned back to blank confusion. He put a hand to his head, covering one eye. His head flopped forward in a show of pain and misunderstanding. He blacked out.

"Gunner!"

The Gunner looked to the voice and immediately a wave of relief washed over him, feeling what he could only describe as mad butterflies in his stomach, actually making him feel quite dizzy and light-headed. Or drunk with happiness. Part of him wanted to cry.

It was Edie. She had run all the way back from Lower Thames Street and landed herself into a swarm of taints, one which George had also been neck deep in. She helped beat away the taints whilst just catching sight of the Gunner walking far down the street. Her and George had chased after him. The chase was more like limping through a marathon, as now both of them were physically worn. It took them double the time to reach the cathedral, where many were seeking temporary harbour and tactic talks. She stared at him, eyes ablaze.

"You're…you're…" Edie stuttered.

"Alive," said George, bewildered.

"Human," said the Gunner.


	55. Defence

The Clocker swung his staff around in a large circumference, warning off any who might take a stab at him. But his arms were getting tired, too tired. He knew this would happen. Knew he would tire eventually. But did it have to be now? A few taints surrounded him on the outskirts of the battle. He figured picking off the less efficient squirms on the edge would be the best plan of action, not because he was scared to head into the middle- he wouldn't let himself think that, even if it were true- but because he no longer had the energy needed to be at the centre of things. He had started out at the centre and things had gone well, but now he'd taken a few knocks and he was working his way out.

His body was tired. His mind was too. Drained. Exhausted. Where'd everyone go? Where was Nick? He couldn't see her.

He felt a chill up his neck.

WHAM.

The Clocker's ears roared and his sense of gravity felt like it had been hit by an ice pick. His whole world shattered. He felt his knee hit the ground and one side of his face go cold. His gasps of breaths all but stopped and his normal eye barely opened millimetres. He could hear nothing but a loud ringing, but could just about see the dots of smaller taints around him scurrying away. Before he could rest or come to terms with what had happened, the staff was yanked out his grasp and something thin and cold like long fingers clamped around the back of his neck and he felt himself being yanked back to his feet, turned around and pushed backwards. He felt his heels skidding and turning at weird angles. They entered a narrow passage between two buildings and through a gate, and just before he lost all self-control his back crashed into a wall. The staff pressed across his shoulders and even though he could hardly see, he had the nagging feeling something was being held to his face.

"Where is she?"

The Clocker had the impression someone was talking but the syllables did not tie together for him. He was more occupied that his head was balancing very unsteadily on his neck and there was a high pitch buzzing in his ears which hit his nerves at sharp junctions and caused flashes of pain to shoot down his leg.

"Where is she?" the voice demanded again.

This time he heard it, just about, even through the blood pooling in his ear. The fuzzy smears of tumbling white and black before him became the outline of a face and hair. A face livid with tortuous anger and eccentric amusement. He still didn't reply and the hands which held him up shook him and pressed him even harder into the wall behind. One of the knifes strapped to the staff was dangerously close to his shoulder. He saw a square of brown levitate to one side of the head and yet he still waited until his vision stopped swirling before speaking. He realised it was a woman that looked like a witch. It was the same servant he'd seen earlier, the woman in armour who'd trapped the Gunner's group. She'd lost the armour now but still wore the metal gauntlet around her hand. She held a brick with her arm held back and had a face that threatened to use it.

"Tell me where she is!" she said, her voice sounding on the tip of full blown fury.

The Clocker didn't ask who she meant; because really he knew there was only one 'she' that could cause this much anger in another person. Only one that could hurt a soul, get them planning and demanding, and get them killing in the name of. He tried to struggle but it didn't have much effect. He wasn't sure he'd even moved an inch. His arms weren't feeling as much pain as he imagined they should be.

SLAP.

He felt the sharp ping of her hand across his face. He swallowed and narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'm not telling you anything, Aemilia."

A brief smile wavered on her taught, white lips. Then she brought her knee up strong between the Clocker's legs and he oomphed forward bent double. She held him up straight with her arm.

"So we're on a first name basis now are we-"

"Clocker," he breathed quickly. "My name's the Clocker."

"I know who you are," she said gravely. "Look at you. Decided to come out of that bell tower you hide in for the big ruse, have you? Think you can play tough?"

She pushed off him hard so the back of his head hit the wall and she brought the staff horizontally in outstretched arms. Then she brought the brick down onto one end of it and lifted her knees in the middle. The Clocker closed his eyelids to avoid splinters, but he gathered by the enormous snap and clatter of wooden splints and metal knifes that his only weapon had been destroyed. He moved forward and struggled but Aemilia was back on him, showing hidden strength in that dark body of hers. She had hidden power. Maybe that was why the other servants did what she said.

She stayed quiet for a moment while she surveyed him. It got too much for him.

"What?" he said bitterly. Short, sharp and to the point.

"How about I make you an offer?" she asked, her tone now bright and light-hearted, but on the edge it was struggling to be jovial. He always got a creepy vibe from someone so evil trying to act nice.

"Servants do not make deals, they make death warrants," he replied bleakly.

"Death, what an interesting word. I can tell you a thing or two about death. You're lucky I didn't kill you when you split up our ambush. Our fight is not with you or the spits- or rather, wasn't- not until they decided to get involved anyway. Now they are just another enemy. They will be dealt with. What you did was a big mistake time man. You'll soon come to realise just how big a mistake it was, and on your head be it."

The Clocker tried not to let guilt show on his face, but shrunk in on himself, shying away from Aemilia's prying eyes that seemed to see past his clock eye into his very soul.

"You should listen to what I'm about to say because right now you're not in the position to be picking and choosing…" she said slowly, making sure she had his full attention. "The Stone needs people like you; people who do not need to tumble into this world. You're already here. You know of all this."

"If you are here to do the heinous crime of recruiting me then I count you harebrained. You ask for something so nonsensical that you must think of me stupid. Enough to be blind to your baneful wrong-doing. I am not that man."

Aemilia's eyes burned and then cooled off in an instant. He saw her thinking through a process of steps that would lead to what she wanted. She seemed like the sort of person who usually got her way. Her eyes flicked to his clock eye and he felt a rising knot of anger unfold.

"You say you aren't blind..." Aemilia said, "but you are certainly _burdened_. The hardship of a curse like yours is one I would certainly not like to be hampered with. Abjure rather than endure, am I right?"

The Clocker made a small grunt that he wanted to think was neither an agreement nor a sign that her words were getting to him. He winced as she held the brick as far back as her arm would allow, ready so she could thrust it forward for a heavy blow. In the silence he began to notice the ticking from the eye Aemilia was so heavily concentrating on. It pulsed stronger with his rapid heart.

"To keep an eye on the time forever," she tutted and pouted her lips. "That's quite a task. Imagine if I battered this brick against your face right now, if I broke your eye, what then? What if you couldn't do your duty, what would happen to you?"

His Adam's apple bobbed nervously in his throat. His mouth was dry and his eyes looked around for help which wasn't coming. Aemilia dropped the brick and with both hands grabbed the cloth around his neck and pushed hard into him. It made the trinkets on his jacket dig into his body.

"Why walk around with that vulnerability, the cold stares and that never ending rhythmous torture? That madness. Think of her, Clocker. She did this to you. She knew what would happen."

"I know what you're doing. It won't work on me. You're wrong."

"Nick knew! She did. She planned it all out carefully. She doesn't care about you, she never has."

"No," the Clocker said, the confidence in his voice undeniably falling. "You're lying."

"She's a servant who plays the innocent card to perfection. The ultimate disguise. She bathes in the profits and proceeds and laughs while everything around her burns. It was all her idea. Your broken pact. Her skewed vision of payback. She dotted the i's and crossed the t's. A deceit, a dishonour, a trick. She tricked you. Where as you were a good man; too honest and decent to expect the worse of people, she knew what she was playing with and how to manipulate it. She wanted you to suffer timelessly, and it was, except, it wasn't without time, was it? You suffered with the fate of punctuality forever. For no good reason. That's how cruel she is, how wicked. She's the reason why you've been taxed with your own personal servitude. You've been left here to rot, forgotten by the world which was once your home. Forgotten by the family who once loved you. Forgotten by the friend who betrayed you. It wasn't the Stone's doing. She's the cause for all the hurt, all the humility of your eternity of sorrow. She's the one who made the contract you were forced to oblige by. She's the one who signed your death warrant, matey, not us. Not the Stone. She committed you to a living hell."

The Clocker's legs swayed. His mind felt light and woozy but his stomach felt heavy and sick. He stared low and focused on nothing as the cold air dug under his skin.

"Where is she?" Aemilia whispered.

"I, I...don't know. I don't-" he replied quietly, his throat cutting off half way through with scattered and gulley blandness. His good eye started to gather moisture and he felt the hands of his clock eye become tighter and grate.

"No matter," she said softly, lightly relieving the pressure on him and holding his shoulder gently. "I wouldn't worry about her anymore. Her secret's out. The Stone knows. She has crossed those who tried hardest to save her. She has gone against our good will and spat it back at us, leaving us in pieces. She is nothing but poison. She has betrayed the Stone just like she betrayed you. But all is not lost. We understand you, us servants, your new friends. The Stone's got your back, and Nick will pay for her actions. You'll get the retribution you always deserved. Just remember, the Stone is not as vindictive as the world is. It is not as ruthless as Nick is. It will avail those who stand beside it. You do right by it and it will take away the tumour of pain you hold. It will make the ticking go away. I'd say that was more than a handsome quid pro quo, don't you reckon?"

Her eyes sparkled at the sight of his bottom lip quivering, his breaths hard to take in, his hands shaking. His split mind weighing it up.

"Think about it," she said.

She let go of him, turned and walked through the gate, disappearing slowly round the edge of the corner. For a moment the Clocker stayed motionless and didn't breathe, with his arms scrunched up in the same position as they'd been when he was pinned back. Then his knees finally buckled and he slid down the wall and landed with a laboured clunk. His head fell heavy into his hands and he wept.

############

Edie realised she was grasping a hat which she had picked up from the floor of Cannon Street. Now she had reached the Cathedral she was still panting but lifelessly outstretched her hand down.

"Yes I'll be needing that," said the Gunner, taking his hat back whilst still resting on his knees.

Looking at it in his hands, his smile left him and his face went serious. He saw George and covered himself by weakly smiling at him, but George's eyes were wide and it looked like his lips didn't know what to do.

George span quickly and walked away down the central isle, looking flustered and obviously wanting to be alone. The Gunner wondered what was going through his mind right now, and whether the boy would ever be able to trust him again.

The Gunner put the hat on the floor and gently rested Nick's head down onto it, stuffing his trench coat underneath her body as she lay peacefully.

"I shouldn't have left you. Any of you," said the Gunner.

Edie's eyes went sad.

"It's not you're fault."

"What happened?"

"Me and Nick got chased by taints. Nick split away from me so that they'd follow her instead." Edie paused as she felt a large lump in her throat. "But it wasn't any better for me. There were taints and tallymen everywhere. No wonder I went mad."

"Mad?"

"I started chasing after a rabbit." Edie shook her head not believing what she was saying. "Well, technically it was a hare. Bronze by the look of it."

"Ah, you're not mad."

"What?" said Edie. "What does that mean?"

"The Bell Hare," the Gunner rubbed the back of his neck and sat up a little closer. "The way the story goes is that it's said to go to those who are in most need of a beacon of assessment to find answers in their lost ways. It shows them the route to absolution…"

"It showed me to Nick."

The Gunner nodded lightly and looked down on Nick, wondering what Darkness was brewing inside her trapped mind. Eventually Edie asked the question they were both thinking;

"Is she going to be OK?"

"I don't know. I really don't know."

Edie sat down besides him heavily. Neither of them said anything for a while, just letting the still of the moment wash over them, thinking about the hopelessness they were caught up in, trying to find a way forward. It was melancholy in the Cathedral; other spits hurt or looking after the hurt lay silent and huddled in various corners, and the sounds of the distant fighting never quite disappeared.

"What are we going to do?" said Edie into the air, letting her head fall into her palms pressed up against her bent knees. "A week ago I was just a little orphan girl alone in London. I didn't fit in. I knew I wasn't like the others. I had no one. But then I found out just how special I was. I found George and I found you and suddenly this world gave me meaning. I had a family. A reason to carry on. Now it wants to take it all away from me. It's not fair."

"Oh Edie," the Gunner sighed. "I wish I could say something to make it alright. I wish it didn't have to be this way. You didn't fight Death and win just to come back to this madness. Truth is, this is more than just a bitter feud between spits and taints now. This is so much more, I-I'm not sure what it is. I'm just a soldier."

He picked up his hat again and felt the cold tin. Tin, not bronze.

"I don't even know what I am anymore."

He didn't think he was ever going to come to terms with all these new feelings. He plonked the hat back on his head and tried to forget about it.

"Are you okay?" Edie asked anxiously.

"Never better," he tried to smile but it faltered. George came up behind Edie and the Gunner caught his eye and became drowned in hopelessness and sorrow. George opened his mouth but there was a deep gurgle noise from Nick and all eyes turned to her.

"The Brute, I tried, tried to- couldn't stop it...arghhh!"

Her body was trembling. Her voice was a fast, high-pitched rattle which spun into an unworldly scream that sent shivers up everyone's back and made the hair on their neck stand on end. She carried on screaming.

"It knows- It knows- God it knows! It's gonna kill me."

The Gunner darted over to her and lifted her head up into his arms once again.

"No, no," she screamed. It wasn't at the Gunner. "Please, no. Don't-. No. Ahh!"

The Darkness pulled at the hooks it had made deep into her flesh and wrenched free the pegs rooted in sanity. Drops of water streamed down her cheeks through clenched eyes, a battle going on behind the lids. She entered a shudder of gagging, her vessels so thin from forced constriction from the Stone's torment that her body was attacking itself. It wasn't like death, which was just bleeding out and natural. She didn't know quite what this was but it was definitely worse. Beyond death. She felt the Darkness cave in on her and the shadows wrap all around her, suffocating her in a never ending blackness. Her face became bleached white, blue veins pressing out against the outer layers of skin. Her hands scraped at the air above her like she was hallucinating.

"Nick? Nick! It's OK, I've got you. Breathe," shouted the Gunner.

The Gunner held her tighter. Her mouth was wide open but the air in her throat turned sour in the chocking hold the Darkness ravelled around her neck. Her chest palpated and her pulse sky-rocketed. Her body flinched and crimped with pained hiccups under pressure too great to contain, ready to burst through. The tears from her eyes were now streams of blood.

"Nick! For God's sake, breathe!" the Gunner cried desperately, hands caught in an overwhelming tremor.

Edie stared in horror, struck with panic.

The Gunner tried to hold her body steady. Her limbs ticked and jerked with spasms of ragged tension. She made wry, shuddery whines whilst trying to claw at his face, forcing him to restrain her hands. He grasped around her rigid hand and felt a spark of warmth resonate in the air under his touch. It was like a current; the same energy flowing through both of them as he cradled her. Some of her energy stored inside him returning to its original host. Filling the cavities overrun by the Darkness and giving the strength to contain it again. When he realized what was happening, he thought it might change him back to bronze, but it didn't. She must have been bluffing when she'd said she could reverse it. He could feel himself becoming weak though.

Nick's legs went limp and her eyes flickered. She looked peaceful. She felt an old avenue of merging alliance widen up, so that she found the recognition of her own body, followed by the vital dashboard of circuits and processes of her thoughts. The dark heft in her stomach shrank to a low, vibrating hum. She let all the oxygen in, her chest ballooning with air through her cracked, flute throat.

"That's it. That's my girl," the Gunner said, and for the first time felt real tears collecting around his lashes.

The distance shouts and sounds from the battle were getting louder. The spits had started to retreat because the taints and servants were overpowering them. They couldn't hold up the fight.

Through closed eyes, Nick started to hear mumbling of sounds, strands of sentences. Muddled and fuzzy like being underwater, she panicked but couldn't move. A murmur, then a high pitch gasp. She heard 'sorry' being played out by different sources, but mostly being repeated from a certain strained yet familiar voice. Then she thought she heard George. The words were a jigsaw in Nick's head. The un-tuned register of the voice he spoke in made her shiver. His voice sounded mutated, like death. Then the voice she had heard first became more clear as the Gunner's, now he was talking about something to do with C'hi but it soon became murmurs and rattles again.

"George," said Edie, both their eyes still held a firm hold on Nick. "That man who ran all jittery. Who is he?"

"Beats me," George replied grimly. "Another servant from what I could understand by his and Nick's conversation. He's powerful, Edie, the Walker's got nothing on him. How do you know about him anyway?"

"I saw him, I was opposite the alley when you ran after him. But before that, I glinted him. That scar on Nick's shoulder, he was there the night she got it."

"His name's Lampard," said Nick. "Or Talbot or Kelley, or evil bastard if you'd prefer. Take your pick."

Edie and George both jumped and saw Nick staring back at them. But then her eyes flickered and her hand found the Gunner's coat lapels and held them tightly as she came back to control. The Gunner brought his water canteen to her mouth. She took small swallows before coughing and spluttering the rest.

"M'sorry," she whispered in a desperate high croak as her eyes closed again. The words got stuck in her throat. Her eyelashes were wet and her face was etched with drying blood and carved with raw aching and exhaustion. She saw spots of colour as her eyelids crept open once again. When the light adjusted she saw the Gunner's face beaming down at her.

"Wotcha," he grinned. "Try and take it steady."

He calmly pulled her up to a sitting position. Her head lolled feebly on her strained neck. His arm stayed around her back, keeping her drained body upright and hoping it would transfer some warmth to her iced skin.

"How 'bout another hug?" he beamed.

"Don't push it," Nick heckled.

The Gunner laughed but still looked concerned. She seemed very unstable. He watched her looking at her own hand inside his.

"Told you right from the off we'd make a good team," he said dryly.

Nick huffed a hard smile.

"Are you okay, George?" she said, trying to gather more strength in her arms and levering herself up further, pushing the Gunner off her but not in an aggressive way.

"I'm fine."

George was now sitting behind her. He was facing sideways from all of them, sitting furthest away from the Gunner. He barely looked at her, only glancing out the corner of his eye, an obvious discomfort shown by his face, the kind of look you would expect from someone seeing the living dead. A dark purple ring ran around his neck. His eyes bulged in his drooped head and looked red and hollow. Nick cringed and had to look away.

"You gave us a great scare there, Nick," said the Gunner.

"The next time I see the Walker I'm gonna-" started Edie.

"Shhhh, now's not the time," the Gunner broke in.

"Why did you do it, Nick?" Edie continued regardless. "Why did you jump in front of a bullet to save him?"

Nick didn't answer. She looked at the Gunner but his head was hung low and he looked sad and unclear about whether to comment, obviously not wanting to catch her eye for a gesture of reassurance, knowing this would betray Edie.

Nicks guilt was chocking her. A wound that ran deep inside. _It was all her fault. The Brute. The Walker. Everything. Even the war, the many countless being hurt and killed. She'd led these people to believe they stood a chance. And they didn't. The Walker was right. _Her head was swimming and suffocating, feeling like it was set to detonate. The mushroom cloud of everything happening asphyxiated everything she knew, and only tightened the chains that caged her. The pain inside was unbearable. The tips of her fingers and toes were numb and prickly. She could feel her body ready to shut down. She wanted to enclose her head in her hands to block out the light hurting the back of her eyes but the effort was too much of a demand. She was sapped of everything. She felt like she had been bled dry, she felt like the air had escaped. Like all the nutrients and all the energy had just evaporated. She felt empty inside. A hollow shell. Diminished. She wanted the earth to swallow her up. The darkness to take her to sleep.

_No._

The one word filled the void inside her. It echoed and intensified. The Stone wouldn't claim her that easy. The word started a flame. A burning. A need.

_It wasn't over yet._

"George told me what happened..." said Edie, "and now look what the Walker's done- George was almost killed. Smith's dead."

The more she talked, the more her voice petered out to nothing.

"I know," Nick covered her face with her hands and sobbed. She breathed out solemnly and kept her eyes on the floor, "but I thought he had the greatest chance at stopping Lampard reaching the Stone so I saved him to give us more time."

"Well you were wrong," Edie breathed heavily. Suddenly she was like a mad bull. "I trusted you! When are you going to realise? The Walker's just using you. He wants me and George dead. Helping him doesn't help you or anyone else."

"Let's not toss the blame about," said the Gunner. "If we fall apart now there's no helping us."

Edie paced up and down with her eyes closed. One hand was on her head, the other was on her waist.

"So did you-" George started, but then looked torn about whether to finish. He swivelled and turned away from them again.

"Did I what?" Nick said with scorn, knowing what it was George wanted to ask and hated him for bringing it up now.

"Did you die?" he said with angst, openly showing his distain at Nick's unjustified anger at him.

"Yes!"

She said it harshly and as quickly as possible, the resulting words getting trapped in her throat. She blinked back the pain of it and tried to ignore the aftermath gnawing at her, but now there was no avoiding it: _she'd died. The heart stop kind of dead. But she'd lived through it._ She managed to fight a wave of tears by turning it in to anger. A storm was brewing deep down.

"And?" said George.

"You don't want to know," said Nick.

She read their mixed expressions: their sickening recognition and their mild solace lying thinly on top of their spite for the let-down of Nick's duplicity.

Lampard had been wrong about most things, he had misjudged Nick, as was her ever present bluff on the surface that lead people to misbelieve her complexities. But he'd come close to getting one thing right.

She wanted to slap them. Wanted them to hurt, wanted them to know what she was feeling. Just to have someone else who truly understood because none of them did and none of them could make it better. None of them could make it go away.

She shook herself. She knew it was the anger talking, the dark side to her internal harangue. She would never want to inflict that much harm onto someone's conscious. She didn't want them to be angry but neither did she need their seemingly forced sympathy and knew it could never be a match for what she'd been through. She knew Lampard was right though, they would never understand.

But the Walker _would_.

She rubbed at her temples, she could feel herself cracking.

"How could you do that?" yelled Edie. "Why go through all of it for _him, _Nick? He's evil."

"You think I don't know that?"

Now Nick was shouting at Edie. Shouting at all of them because she knew they all thought the same. But what did they know? How would they know anything? Who were they to judge? They didn't know the torment inside her. The Evil. They didn't know how hard it was for her to fight back.

She felt red, burning rage in her veins. Her mind was spinning. She looked delirious, she felt deranged. Her throat was sore and her voice was still weak and scratchy, unhinged despite trying desperately to concentrate. She had bitten her tongue when she had collapsed. It made her mouth numb and hard to speak. She tasted blood in her mouth, some of it had dried around the edges of her lips and was hard and crusty but she didn't care.

"Then stop defending him! After everything he's done. Think about what he does to people like us, to Glints!"

"Right, c'mon Edie, give her a break," said George finally. "She did save my life after all."

He equally shared his sister's speculation but knew the anger should be at the Walker, not Nick. It wasn't her fault. The Gunner equally stayed quiet.

"I know, I know," Nick whimpered, tearing at her hair.

"Then just stop it! Stop helping him. Look what he's turned you into," said Edie.

"I've had to go through years of it all," Nick moaned. "The Walker's hurt me, abused me, exploited me. Locked me up for days with little food or water. Even made me find other Glints and forced me to watch as he mistreated them just the same. I know what he does to Glints, Edie. Of course I do. I can never _stop_ thinking about it. I've spent so long trying to forget. To ignore. To forgive. But I never can. Because what he does is unforgiveable, and I can never forget that. And I can never justify what he does. I don't want to. But he's been there, always. He practically raised me. I found out that he saved me from the fire out of his own decision, the Stone wanted me dead! I don't know why he did. Why he would save me and yet kill so many innocent. It's illogical, but he's messed up. I don't need to tell _you_ that. He's only gotten worse over the years. You're probably thinking I'm crazy too now. I probably am. I'm a wreck to be honest with you. I don't know what's good for me. In some ways I'm just as bad as he is. But I've been here for over 300 years and he's always protected me from the Stone. I lived through World War I, World War II, cholera epidemics, plague epidemics, the Great Smog, Thames floods, crime, riots, terrorist attacks and heck, even the Great Stink! And I went through all of that with him. Yes, I know he's crazy and I know that he's done truly terrible things but so have I. It just always keeps coming down to the fact that he saved me, he could have left me to burn but he didn't. He's kept me alive to this day, and I could have died so many times in the past without him. Yes you could say that he only saved me in the fire so that he could manipulate me, use me. Think all that if you want to believe it but I can't, I just can't. It would mean that my whole life was bad and wrong and pointless. Just a lie. And then what would that make me? What would I have to believe in? WHAT WOULD BE THE POINT OF ME!... I have to believe there's some good in him or else I couldn't go on living. And living for centuries is something you can't go through on your own, it turns you crazy if you do. In that position, you need someone. Anyone. I can't begin to imagine how the Stone would treat me if the Walker wasn't by my side. A life for a life, you know? I guess that's why I released him- _I just need him_. He's the one constant thing in my life. He's all I know."

George didn't say anything. Edie couldn't say anything.

Nick stood up, too quickly, and for a moment she swayed heavily while her eyes tried desperately to skew the blurs back into focus and remain balanced, feeling all the while that she had just betrayed them and sold her soul to the Devil. She felt bile making its way up her throat but gulped it back down. The Gunner looked worried she might collapse again. He held out a hand towards her but expecting it, she brushed it away in a swift twist. The move caught the Gunner unaware and he stumbled, revolver falling from his trench coat pocket in the process.

Nick hesitated whilst turning, having caught the sound of the gun hitting the ground. The Gunner noticed her eyes lingering on it, a hidden emotion playing on the creases of her face. He quickly swooped and picked it up, putting it away inside his coat whilst catching her eye for a brief second before she turned away. She looked towards the exit and said with a big breath...

"I'm going back."


	56. Inferno

Nick came down the steps of the front of St Pauls and Boudicca, the Red Queen, was standing poised in her chariot with her two daughters at the bottom. The two bronze horses were stamping the floor energetically with their hooves, scraping the concrete, sending sparks fly. Dispite being statues it seemed like steam was erupting out of their noses into the cold night air as they breathed heavily. Nick arrived to hear the end of the Queen's conversation with another spit on horseback...

"-and the supplies are loaded. There's no time to lose. Ah..." the Queen said turning to Nick. "You must be the one they're all talking about. A girl too."

She lifted her spear and smiled. Nick's eyes flicked to the right behind the chariot, where the Quadriga was pulling up behind the other one. The Queen's face dropped in irk as she realised she was being ignored. Just then the Gunner left the cathedral and came down the steps behind her. The Queen double-taked in surprise.

"Gunner! My word. You're…"

"I know."

"But…but that's-"

"I know."

There was an awkward moment where nothing was said, the Queen shut up, and the Gunner felt his cheeks feel very hot all of a sudden.

"Nick," he said turning to her. "Think about this. What you've just been through… you're not strong enough yet."

"I'm not weak!" Nick yelled.

"I'm not saying that," he responded and put a hand on her cheek. She looked like it bothered her but didn't pull away. "It's not that I don't think you have the courage. It's not that I don't think you're brave. Because you are that, more even. I'm just saying get your priorities straight. Take it easy until you're properly back on your feet. You almost died…again."

"I'm immortal!"

"You know that's not true, not really. You're only what the Stone allows you to be-"

"No."

"-and that scares you. It scares me, Nick. You don't have to pretend otherwise. Being scared doesn't make you weak. And it certainly doesn't make me think any less of you. I'm still here, aren't I? Just…know that you can still rely on us. Tensions might be running high but we're still with you. All of us."

Edie and George also emerged in the doorway, arguing in whispers.

"The next wave of attack is preparing to leave," said George.

Nick and the Gunner continued to look at each other until Nick broke away.

"Yes very good," the Queen said. "I must share my thanks to all of you for the release of my two daughters, they spoke so very highly of you when they retuned. You have my blessing." Her daughters were sat behind the Queen and disembarked the chariot. "They shall stay watch in the cathedral, tending to any who should become wounded."

The daughters smiled at them and went up the steps to the cathedral entrance.

"Care for a ride back to that lump of old rock?" said the Queen.

"I thought you'd never ask," the Gunner said smiling and outstretched his arm, grabbed on, and climbed up onto the chariot. The horses livened up, aware that they would soon be allowed free reign to charge with all their might. Nick turned away and walked over to the Quadriga. The slightly larger chariot was drawn by four horses; each more harmonious then the frenzied horses pulling the biga in front, but indisputably more powerful. She looked up and the angel of Peace was smiling down at her. She was tall and thin, dressed in a long, floating dress and holding a laurel wreath which she perched on her head. She then slipped an olive branch behind an ear so her hands were free. Her smile was infectious and so soothing that Nick felt bubbly in her presence. She smiled in return and climbed on. The Queen did her best to mask her steamed annoyance by this and snapped her hand back out for the next passenger.

Edie and George shared guilty looks with each other, then Edie gestured for George to go with the Queen and she would take the Quadriga. Each of them got pulled up on to their respective chariots. George stood besides the Gunner and they both looked uncomfortable in each other's company. Nick sat by the back edge on the other, on a black box similar to others scattered round her. She looked the other way and disregarded Edie when she climbed on. Edie didn't know whether she should say anything, so she rested a hand on Nick's shoulder for a moment, and even though she didn't catch her eye, and Nick didn't look her way, in that shared moment they felt at ease with each other. Edie went and sat closest to the front next to Peace.

The Queen lashed on the whip and the horses were finally allowed to let lose all their pent up energy. The scenery around them blurred as they travelled down Cannon Street with the Quadriga following. Nick knew it had the force to over-take the Queen, but thought Peace took it as a matter of respect to stay loyally behind. For an angel, Peace was no less able a driver than the Queen, and her eyes betrayed the fun she was having, steering with skill and virtue, skimming around road bollards and the last few night taxis, leading them into war like it was some kind of game.

They soon reached the core of the fighting, charging through the pit of taints which were too slow to notice the chariots bounding towards them. Still with the Queen leading, the brutal blades sticking out the centre of the wheels tore through the taints like mash. She looked back and aired a triumph call back at Peace, whose chariot's wheels were bladeless and didn't create as much of an impact. Being of a less sanctimonious nature than the Queen, Peace laughed and applauded the Queen's success, seeing it as a chance to cut back on the restrictions to better her chances. She unreigned the horses a little to pick up speed and took a target to aim at.

Nick quickly slid forward off the box and ducked, her head staying low, her nose almost touching the floor of the chariot. She pulled her hood back over her head where the wind had pushed it down and made herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Edie saw this out the corner of her eye but before she had time to question it, felt a sickening pull from within, and not needing to look around for landmarks, she knew they had just past the Stone.

Whereas most bunched away and scattered from the middle of the road, a trio of taints ran towards the Queen's chariot ahead. She lifted her spear back above her head to throw but was stopped in her tracks as something swooshed past her. She watched a circle of jagged spikes fly through the air and take down all three taints in one slice swoop before it encircled a sharp corner and headed back. It zoomed past her head again and she jerked backwards to watch its flight path head home into the hands of Peace. She waved the bronze laurel wreath in the air with flitting glee. The Queen actually smiled back.

The horses sharply rounded a corner to miss a blockage the servants had started to set up to block most of the street. The Queen turned to face the front as the chariot charged at a curving angle over a pavement curb during her lapse of concentration. She tried to steady the reigns but the momentum of the manoeuvre kept going. The outer wheel was thrown into the air and the floor of the chariot tilted towards the sky as it turned for another street. The Queen grabbled at the reigns and the horses steadied for a moment, fighting for control. The Gunner hit the floor of the chariot but managed to grab hold of a side panel and bring himself upright and cling onto George. The wheel came back to the floor with a thud and the Queen screeched to a stop, seeing what was in front of her, and calling a warning to the second chariot.

Peace had time to see the Queen almost lose control. Using the power of all four horses she started turning for the corner sooner, being able to stay in the middle of the road and miss the blockage up ahead. She soared past the stopped chariot and thought she heard the Queen calling something at her. But the wind in her ears was too loud and she was enjoying herself too much to care.

What she wasn't expecting was a second trap. This time, lying all the way across the road was a snare of wood and metal. Death shards of a river of scrap and waste. Peace's smile froze. Edie clung onto the front panel when Nick only just rose back up from the chariot floor to understand what was about to happen. There wasn't time to slow down. The sting was going to work. And they were heading right for it.

The horses didn't slow as they knew their best chance was to try and get over it in a fast, clean jump. They cleared the obstruction barely, their straps holding them down from full jump, but it was just enough not to get cut too badly by the spikes of pointed steel aiming at the sky. The chariot, however, took the full blow of the death wall and screeched and shuddered violently as its underside wacked into it. Metal got trapped in between the spokes of the wheels, grinding against the mode of action and mechanism, sending up violent sprays of white hot sparks. The wall did slow it, but at the speed they were heading it acted more like a ramp, and both wheels were lifted into the air, sending the back end highest with a terrific _crack_. Both Nick and Edie were propelled into the air. Edie screamed and just managed to grab hold of the front of the chariot. For a second her legs were catapulted above her. When gravity found her again, her body slammed onto the chariot floor. She slid towards the open-ended back, now tilting due to damage. He fingers clutched at nothing until Peace grabbed her arm. Edie felt the air battering on her legs as they hung over the edge. She scrambled to bring her self back. Peace yanked Edie to the top end, using her large wings to hold Edie in place whilst still taking the reigns in her hands.

Nick was not so lucky.

When the chariot rose, Nick rose with it. Being situated at the back she got the highest propulsion and lost her grip instantly. She soared high into the air splaying her arms about to take hold of anything, but there was just free air. Her stomach lurched and she saw the chariot pass underneath her, moving ahead, leaving nothing but the bare road tarmac to break her fall, and possibly all the bones in her body. The wind pulsed through her hair and across her skin. It was cooling and slow. For a brief moment in time she was flying. Gravity ceased to exist. The surroundings blurred and nothing else mattered anymore. There was no panic, no sadness nor any dangerous impediment. It was peaceful. She thought she heard someone call her name, but it sounded far away.

Then she was falling.

She braced herself and face first smashed into the ground. Her wrists took most of the impact as it sent a shockwave of pain coursing down her arm. Her ribcage took another blow and the bones rattled as they shook through another wave. Her body was flung over again and again as she tumbled down the street. Her face scraped across the hard ground, taking more skin with it and as her feet pressed into the floor, the friction burnt the soles of her shoes but it eventually slowed her, skidding to a halt. There was a sharp pain down the side of one leg and she felt a wet, spreading warmth in it. Her shoulder cramped with such pain that she would rather cut her own arm off to avoid it rather than bare. Through swollen half-shut eyes, her surroundings span wildly. It was just a blurred mess. She saw stars through a red veil. Then to her horror she saw two servants walking towards her. The blackness crept up on her again, dragging her away from the world.

Her mouth was against the floor and when she took a heavy breath, powder flew up into her eyes and nose. Her eyes clamped shut and she coughed on reflex, rubbing her face with her hands. It dried out her mouth, pleading for moisture. She lifted her stinging head sluggishly in pain and concussion. Something grabbed her shoulder and Nick felt the pain spike yet she felt so smashed from feeling that she couldn't express it anymore. Her eyes were too lame to look anywhere other than the ground. There was a small pool of black powder lying there which had tipped from the black box she had been sitting on in the Quadriga.

Nick remembered something.

Her hands went to her side but the hand that held her pulled her across the ground a yard and took a tighter grip. Nick clawed at the floor with her hands to shuffle forward. A pair of feet then stood either side of her hips and two more hands pulled the top half of her bpdy off the ground. She saw a glimpse up the street and saw that the black powder led into a trail, a long line of it travelling all the way as far as she could see. A flash of white met her eyes and then the blackness came again when a hand covered her eyes. She tried to scream but another covered her mouth. Her teeth tried to take a hold of the flesh to bite down on it when a boot came down hard on the back of her thigh, making her body go slack and spiritless. She made a muffled groan, water collecting in her eyes. Her arms stopped trying to force the blinding hands away from her and instead travelled to her waist. Down the lower side pocket in her baggy jeans she had kept the knife that she'd stolen back from the Walker in a move he would be impressed- but thoroughly cheated- by. Still lying on the floor she felt down to her pocket, the muscles in her arms killing as she fumbled to open it. The hands on twisted her body violently and tried to lift her off the ground completely. The movement almost snapped her arm in the position she was in. She removed the knife. The tip was blood red from where it had pinched her leg. She stared at it and noticed the weird carvings on its handle. They looked familiar.

"Look out!" a warning called.

Coming towards Nick was a metal sculpture of waving lines and impossible circles all tied up into a large ball. A recently new installation outside one of the many art museums. It had been bowled down the street from the push of a servant who hadn't considered the need to aim. It became a matter of every man for himself as spits and servants alike pushed and shoved to get out of the way from the big steel structure hammering forward like an unstoppable force. A flock of small gargoyles got entangled into the ins and outs of the steel mesh and were carried forward with it before being thrown out or simply crushed under its weight. The hands clamping Nick in the air let go, and she fell to the ground, moving her hand out from under her with the tip of the knife just millimetres from stabbing up into her abdomen. She heard running and more shouting. Slack-jawed and disorientated, she registered the danger only seconds from it rolling over her. She tussled to get her limp legs to take the weight of her body. All surrounding her, people were trying to skirmish and escape the litter and muddle of the rat-race as it played out right in front of her. The sound of the commotion got louder and louder as it approached and Nick trawled her straggled limbs into some kind of order to get to her feet. She immediately felt the whole effect of being thrown from the chariot. She heaved her sore aching body around, twisting across the side of the ball, crying out as the steel banged into her shoulders. She slashed down with her hand carrying the knife as she was knocked to the floor again. Flint grazed against steel. Sparks flew and the street was illuminated as a giant flame burned through the night, travelling down the line of spilt powder.

The Quadriga bounded forward. Its wheels were most certainly damaged, the bronze on one side had crumpled and there was a hole on the other. The horses were straining. But stopping now would be too dangerous; they were in the heart of taint territory and slowing would give them reason to attack. At the speed they were going, it was just enough to inflict some damage to keep the taints away, too fearful to risk getting sucked under the hooves and wheels. Peace gripped hard on to the reigns, harnessing the power of the horses' stamina. Edie, whilst trying to spot the shrinking figure of Nick's inert body lying debilitated on the floor, was the first to notice the long ravel of flames approaching. Peace spotted it soon after as the heat quickly reached them. The moment they shared reading the panic on each other's faces was drawn out as time slowed down. With Peace already tied up with controlling the horses, and a first hint of panic creeping onto an almost ever-present smile, Edie was the first to cut loose the incapacitating arrest held over them. She squared up to the back of the carriage and heaved at the underside of the powder box, straining her shoulders under the weight. It fell to the floor. The carriage distanced itself and rounded another corner, tying to take a safer way back to the others.

The fire reached the dumped box and a cloud eruption emerged into the air, sending crackles of sparks and flames everywhere. A few servants caught fire and threw themselves to the ground, rolling about to extinguish the flames. When they looked up they were faced with swords and daggers pointing at their heads, surrounded by spits. Nick's hearing rung loudly as the explosion shattered against the bones and delicate tissue in her ears. They popped and the pressure change hurt. Noises were dull slurs of time.

Another flame erupted with a huge roar behind Nick and she thought her plan had gotten out of hand, but she looked and the fireball was erupting from the Temple Bar dragon as it stood at one end of the street, wrestling flying taints and blocking anything from escaping.

"Guardian. I. Am. Stop. City. Destroyed. I. Will," it thundered.

##########

"That bitch!" Conan spat, panting heavily, hiding just off the end of the street behind the Temple Bar Dragon, re-tying his dreadlocks back into a tight bundle. He patted his crusted shirt down where it had caught fire.

"We almost had her," mumbled Blaise, his lips so permanently swollen from the scar that his words came out slurred and painful.

"You get a view at that idiot who pushed the ball?"

Blaise shook his head in reply. Conan growled and ran his fingers down the slashes on his face.

"Look at her," he arched his head around the corner to see Nick looking gormless in the middle of the street. "What's her game?"

"Spy for Stone?" said Blaise.

"It doesn't add up. She would have done something by now if she was a spy. She got into the cathedral and yet apparently did nothing. What _has_ she done? Come in hell blazing on a chariot taking down us hacks. She ain't killing any spits or that glint that was on the Quadriga, I saw her. Nick's squealing. I swear it."

"Go to Stone."

"No," Conan said with pent up rage, feeling at the edges of his scars with delicate poignancy. "She's a dead girl walking, and she's going to pay. The Stone will finish her eventually, but hopefully I can get to her first. I'll bleed her dry."

"Quite literally," Blaise grunted with an ironic snarl.

Blaise juddered and his gasp got caught behind his partly sealed lips. His head rocked back and his knees fell forward, slumping him onto the floor. Conan turned, horrified, and saw his friend's limp face crash into the ground and then saw the hole of torn fabric in his back. He looked up but only saw a flick of silver light and then his head opened up and his face burned with an intense pain which rocked an impact at the back of his brain as the thrust of a knife sliced in a long arm swing horizontally across his cheek, then across the bridge of his nose directly below both his eyes. Conan screamed and fell to his knees besides Blaise with his head in his hands, pushing hard against the fresh tear of bleached chalk flesh. He rocked on his knees and turned his face to the side and looked with one eye out of the gap made with his fingers covering his face to see his attacker.

"You," he grunted.

There was a pause as the attackers lips curved into a smile in the shadow. The attacker moved suddenly then Conan's body jerked and his heart rippled. He blinked once then looked down, seeing the knife now protruding from his chest, its jewelled handle sparkling with glee. Conan's hands went for the knife but he was slapped around the face, long fingers opening the new tear, forcing Conan to scream and take his hands back. The dagger pressed into the flesh with high pressure, making small jagged breaths escape the clutches of Conan's shocked mouth. The attacker withdrew the knife slowly and spiralled it in his hand on exit, causing Conan to make a wry gasp through a dry mouth and blurred eyes.

The attacker made a sharp, low-tone laugh.

"Who else?" the cold voice replied.

"You think that going to stop me?" said Conan. "She's going to wish-"

The next thing Conan knew, a boot collided with the side of his head and pummelled him backwards. Conan's eyes rolled back and he lay still.

###########

A witch-like woman servant spotted Nick just as the same time she spotted her. From her own ghastly experience Nick knew Aemilia was a good fighter and remarkably intelligent. Most servants when cursed simply slip under the radar from the world they lose and wait until they are forgotten about. Aemilia, on the other hand, went a step further and faked her death, even having a false grave set up in St Olave's churchyard so there wasn't any suspicions or police searches. And if the grave were ever to be exhumed and no bones were found, it could easily be blamed on grave-robbers or resurrection men that were active during the time period of her 'death'.

But it hadn't gone unnoticed by Nick that this was an idea she most likely stole from the Walker, who had done the same thing years before in Mortlake. In fact, during the past, Aemilia would take every opportunity to work with him, a positive toady harboring some twisted hang-up and infatuation for her superior. A trait he would sometimes exploit when he needed something in her knowledge or possession, or simply required someone to take the rap for him. Yet his feelings for her were obviously untoward, and he would only put up with her brown-nosing so he could capitalize on her apparent illusive knowledge on the divine spirit, which was somewhat doubted credible by various sources and believed as a scheme to earn his approval.

To say that Aemilia and Nick had very rough history would be underselling it. When Nick had first joined them as a servant, Aemilia would take swipes at her and administer all manners of abuse, trying anything to keep Nick in the Walker's black books. The most popular attacks were often leaking secret information under Nick's name and tricks of sabotage and foul-play when Nick was on missions set by the Stone. It stemmed from her obsession with the Walker, doing everything short of kneeling before him and licking his boots. It was compulsion driven by the jealously of seeing Nick spend so much time with the Walker, and him investing so much attention to her. Over time it drove Aemilia mad with envy.

After the stabbing, the Walker had let it be known that if any servant so much as touched Nick again, they would have to face up to him and the Stone. It was soon after this that Scraplot was rumbled and disbanded, its members fleeing the City, but not before the Walker had chance to catch up and deal with them. Then the Stone sent a lot of its servants away from London. Lampard vanished and Aemilia got sent to Scotland until the turn of five centuries- a motion she proposed had been the Walker's idea but never found any truth to it. He had fortunately exempt Nick from visiting her on her travels, as long as she kept the immunity secret from the Stone. He knew Aemilia would jump at the chance to return anyway, even just to see him, and so he didn't need Nick wasting her time- or her life.

Aemilia's weakness was that she got too heated up in fights and lost her cool easily, losing her mind with it. Which was exactly why Nick reacted straight away when she saw Aemilia strip the metal gauntlet off her hand, throw it to the ground, then interlock her fingers and stretch her palms outwards cracking her knuckles.

They both ran at the same time, only Nick was running away and Aemilia was running towards. Nick entered the mouth of an adjacent street but was still so roughed up by being thrown off the chariot that she couldn't move fast. Aemilia soon caught up to her, her long fingers reaching around her shoulders and pulling back on them. Nick screamed and lost balance, giving Aemilia control. She slammed Nick into a wall.

"How's the shoulder, lassie?" she smirked. "Once a weakness, always a weakness."

Nick wasn't cornered, Aemilia stood a yard back and had no real weapon by the look of it, but Nick had had enough of running away from her problems. She looked over Aemilia's shoulder and to each side, but no one was around.

"That's right, it's just you and me," said Aemilia. "No saviour from your freak martial friend now. I'm assuming that's what saved you, saving up some energy in a savings account spit then taking it back when you needed it. Like blood doping. Nice trick that. Don't go thinking it's over, the Stone will still get you. Soon. Up till that pleasant time us servants get our turn with you."

Nick watched the floor and let her breathing resume to normal and the twinge in her shoulder die down.

"I knew you would betray us," Aemilia now said, pacing a few steps up and down. "I was just waiting for the right moment to prove it, but you did all the hard work for me. 'Eck, you even turned that dumb spit human right _infront_ of the Stone. Now that's bigheaded."

"That's where you're wrong. I never betrayed you because I was never on your side to begin with."

"I've heard you've seen Death. Was it nice? He's been waiting a long time for you. Although I don't think you two had long enough to be acquainted. I can see to that. I owe Lampy a pat on the back. Although, he was a bit preoccupied when I last saw him, going after those talked about tadpole teens, your friends I presume. Ooh I wouldn't like to be them once he's finished with them."

For the first time worry slipped through the cracks of Nick's expression.

"So without the man in uniform and the ragamuffins, who's left to help you now? Certainly not your timepiece playmate."

"What have you done?" Nick breathed.

"I think it's more a case of what you've done to him?"

"If you've hurt him I'll kill you Bowles, I swear it."

"Why do people keep saying that as if it'll bother me?"

Nick's chest began to rise and fall with rogue intolerance.

"You know in over three hundred years the Stone's never once called you back to London. What does that tell you?"

Aemilia's top lip began to arch in an angry tick and her eyes narrowed. Nick smirked.

"…and in all that time he's never once spoke of your name. The Walker that is. Shame, that."

Nick struck the final chord. Aemilia lashed forward at her as Nick grabbed the knife out of her pocket and stabbed it forward as she neared. Aemilia slowed like she'd hit a glass wall in front of her and looked at the knife in surprise. After a long moment of scrutiny, she actually smiled.

"Where did you get that?" she asked with genuine fascination.

_Again_, Nick thought. Another strange reaction. What exactly was she holding that fascinated everyone? It was just a knife. But even as she thought it, there was the little nag at the back of her mind again, gaining admission into her thoughts. Nick wondered about this abnormal questioning summed up by both the Walker's and Aemilia's response to it. Her stomach went fluttery and she looked down at the knife and felt the tension between her palm and the strange symbols carves onto the handle. It was a weird pulse that seemed strangely familiar. It made her head feel drowsy thinking about it. Aemilia looked delighted.

"Oh this is biblical," Aemilia cackled.

Nick stared at her but Aemilia was loving Nick's awkwardness and confusion. She waited until Nick looked like she was about to attack.

"Don't you remember?" Aemilia pestered. "Can't you feel it? It remembers you. It remembers you're flesh..."

Nick's face turned white. The nagging feeling in her mind erupted. It clicked. It all meant sense.

"You mean this-" her stomach dropped and she couldn't speak. She felt sick. She started to hyperventilate. See could see Aemilia registering the terror in her eyes.

"You can thank Lamps for its wonderful mystery origin. I don't know how he does it that man. More than three hundred years have passed and you keep badgering on about it to mock me, but you are far from in the clear, I can assure you this relic has also withstood the test of time. I won't just stab your shoulder again with it. I'll stab your heart!"

Nick's legs started to get restless. She knew she'd gotten trapped on the undercurrent now and the contemplation of running was by far the best option. No amount of false bravado could eliminate the terror that the knife exposed in her eyes. She felt ill holding the same knife that had crippled her. The memories flashed before her eyes. She felt the pain. Pain unlike anything. Pain that made her scream to God to end it. Pain that had made her reach out for the Darkness. Pain that made her beg for death rather than endure.

"Lampard gave you the knife?" Nick asked, throat as parched as the desert, trying to desperately place together the pieces of her memory from that awful night she'd wished to forget.

"Of course, silly, how else would he have known how to keep you alive from it?" Amelia paused and licked her lips. "You should be dead. Lampard knew it. He knew what you were and what you would become. He saw the danger in you. He was a fool to turn around on that decision just so he could gain a foot hold over the Walker. He should have let you bleed out. It seems so long ago now. Ah, happy days."

Aemilia lunged at her and Nick's hands came out on instinct, trying to use the knife to deter her attack. Aemilia grabbed her wrist and raised their arms into the air. She spat at Nick's eyes and while she was blinded, twisted Nick's wrist so the knife pointed back towards her. It swung in a loop from high to low, almost splitting Nick's abdomen open like a bag of peas. When the knife decelerated at the end of the arc, Nick kicked out and found Aemilia's shin. She heard her howl then grabbed her wrist with her free hand, twisting it until she was free from her grasp, but in the commotion she dropped the knife. They both went for it but Aemilia jabbed towards Nick's shoulder, so Nick arched back and grabbed the witch-like long hair and pulled hard on it. Nick staggered back, and just before losing her balance, managed to kick the knife so it skidded down the street.

Aemilia pushed her back into the wall. Her hands went to her waist and she unbuckled her belt and wrapped the ends around both hands, pulling tight in opposite directions so it whipped the air with a strangled pop.

Nick took a big breath and ran.

Footsteps followed her quickly and it wasn't long until Nick's injuries came back at her with sudden onset. She ran through the pain and the cramp but she wasn't fast enough. From the top of her vision she saw the belt come over her head and get pulled back against her throat, chocking her. She heard Aemilia scream; "Traitor!"

Nick gagged as it got pulled tighter and her body got pulled close, trapped besides Aemilia's body. The woman laughed as Nick gurgled and grasped at broken breathes. Her eyes bulged and her ears roared with sound. Her face turned crimson with pooled blood. The sight of George being strangled flashed in her mind and she tried not to let in the hurt, the torturous agony doubling two fold with every pain staking second.

Nick's hands went for the rough leather and scrambled to get her fingers between it and her throat to lessen the pressure, but it was too tight. Any effort trying to prize it away from her skin was slaughtered when Aemilia chopped down a hand onto her shoulder and Nick reeled back with a scream. That only made the makeshift noose pull tighter. She tried throwing uncoordinated jabs with her fists and feet but Aemilia was quick and dodged most of them, and the only strikes that hit were soft and useless. With the last of her oxygen being used up by her body, Nick pushed back hard on the balls of her feet causing Aemilia to stagger back. The momentum and off-balancing of the servant let Nick stride behind again until they crashed into the corner of the wall. Nick's head reeled back into Aemilia's face and hers in turn slammed into the hard brick behind. She gasped and the noose belt slackened a fraction, so Nick took the second of advantage in her favour, pulling hard on it whilst turning and twisting the ends out of Aemilia grasp. She jumped forward and felt a cold hand grabbing at her hood with an angry growl but it was too limp to hold. Nick wrenched one end of the belt and cracked it back like a whip, slapping a red hot line across Aemilia's face. Breathing hard but ignoring the pain, Nick ran into the next street.

That was how it was going to be now. Now all the servants knew, and they were against her. There was no more pretending. They were enemies. And they were going to kill her.

Nick entered another street when Aemilia fell. Nick didn't see it happen,

otherwise she would have seen her stopped by a hidden arm across her neck and a knife pushed full into her back. Aemilia's body juddered as the knife drew out slowly and then she was pushed by an arm which was there and then wasn't. Her head hit the side wall and she crumpled, wriggling on the floor in jerks, but the wind had been knocked out of her. She didn't bleed but she felt the pain. The overwhelming pain that shut down her defences, leaving her wasted on the floor.

Something clanked as it hit the floor besides her. Muddled confusion registered on her face. Her eyes looked up slightly and caught sight of a knife on the floor. It wasn't just any knife. When her eyes focused on it her face turned even paler, and realised with an awful disbewilderment that it was her own knife that lay before her. The knife Nick had dropped, the knife with the weird carved handle which had been designed to bring everlasting pain to its victim. It had been jarred into her spine, severing nerves and making her whole body twitch in agonising spasms. Damage no amount of her curse could salvage. But slowly the shaking died down until she was barely shivering on the cold floor. Her ears heard a shuffle and her eyes noticed a change in light. Her head turned and caught her attacker standing above her. Her eyes looked shocked, then wavered between bouts of black sliding unconsciousness, passing through anger, disappointment, and grim sorrow. Her eyes finally turned cloudy and unfocussed. Her body slumped forward and laid still.

Nick took a moments rest in the empty alley to gather the extent of her injuries. She wasn't sure. She rubbed her chaffed neck and wiped an arm across her grimy face. It was wet but not from tears, from sweat and from the small areas of skin which had been scraped but not cut deep enough to bleed. They seemed to be okay though, healing quicker like for all the servants. For that she was grateful. The Stone had tried to kill her but it had not taken away her healing…yet. Still, she became more aware of her immortality and exactly how long it would last, whether they won the war or not.

Her ears still buzzed but that was the least of her problems. She hesitantly walked back up the street and discovered Aemilia's body. She did not get too close when she sidestepped around it and bent down quickly to scoop up the knife on the floor. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked around but no one was there so she ran back to the main street. As she ran she felt an added clunky-ness to her pocket. She stopped and pulled out a small bundle of two mirrors tied together. She looked back into the alley and this time saw the Walker standing there, looking back at her. Their moments gaze was interrupted as a terrific thunder bellowed down the cross street and the Temple Bar dragon puffed another fireball down the street, sending more taints ducking behind bins. Nick's view was clouded by it, but the flames died out and the alley she was staring down was empty again.


	57. Attack

The chaos was continuing.

Mayhem.

The turmoil never ending.

The number of servants seemed to have dropped but cast another glance around the place and even more would have appeared out of nowhere. Some fell and lay still for a while but always got back up. More swarms of taints were arriving and the Quadriga warning alarm seemed to be going off every few minutes in the distance.

Nick blinked down the empty alley in deep breaths that stopped her from doing anything else until the acid burning of her lungs stopped. Two taints swooped past her and she staggered back, wind milling her arms to stay put. Another swoosh dropped right before her and claws reigned around her arms. The force pin wheeled her backwards, her legs being flung into the air in the process and the ground came up to meet her back awkwardly. The air was pile-driven out of her and when her head hit the ground, her vision swathed in a mist of shadows ravelling around everything, restricting her need to focus. She saw large white canines and eyes of rage in front of her face.

An ugly dragon's head came close to Nick's as its claws pinned her down under the weight. It was unlike the Temple Bar dragon. It was heavier and much larger in mass and muscle. Its neck was longer and its scales were grey and weather beaten. The stone crushed her down. Nick struggled but putting any kind of effort into lifting the weight up was agonising. She knew the effort she had left was minimal and it was almost as if the drqgon wasn't pulling its full strength. Like it was teasing her. She yelled and turned her head to the side while the dragon arched its head away and Nick heard the grumbling of fire raging at the bottom of its throat. Smoke seeped from its flared nostrils and the sound of the flames licking around the edges of its mouth was set to detonate.

She heard a deafening thud and resonance of a high pitch _thwang._ All sound went crackly. The thud came with the pitch of a steel rod being thrown against the dragon's head. It roared with fury and lessened its grip on Nick. She looked up and saw two small hands clamp around the snarled mouth of teeth and fire. It took one claw hand off her arms and grappled for the hands on its mouth, but it was no good. The unknown hands- which were definitely flesh and blood- shook with tension. Nick felt warmth radiating from them, resonating between the gaps between fingers. There was a fizzing sound and another roar. This time it was muted as the dragon's mouth was firm closed and the hands surrounding it started to move around. Nick saw a length of aubergine hair straggle down onto her face and saw the smooth features of Edie's face from an upside down perspective. Edie moved her hands and smeared the bronze. It had melted to soft clay and she worked it in a way which sealed the taint's mouth and nostrils to a flawless finish. It growled but gagged on the fire stuck in its throat and flapped up in the air, with Nick gasping as it relinquished the pressure on her. Nick felt something grip around her wrists and pull her arms behind her head. Edie was trying to drag her from underneath the hovering taint but it dropped back down. Nick's lungs strained in turmoil as the hammer of the clawed feet tried to flatten her like a pancake. She heard Edie cry "NO!" and looked into the dirty eyes above, its impenetrable choke hold on its mouth roared. Whispers of steam escaped its ears instead, and its throat glowed with trapped fire. It tried to roar but it was a dull groan of vibrations from deep inside from its own fire burning internally. Nick lay weak whilst Edie tugged at her arms and the beast pressed down on her.

BLAM.

The dragon made a muffled shriek and a dust cloud of crumbling stone fell into Nick's eyes.

BLAM BLAM BLAM.

The dragon's head shattered into chunks of weakened stone. Edie manage to grab the biggest chunk before it fell onto Nick's face and kicked the decapitated body of the taint over on ones side, releasing Nick from being pinned to the floor. Nick managed to tumble over onto her stomach and lift her head up to see the Gunner a way away, looking straight at her, arms stretched forward with smoke willowing out the end of his revolver. She almost didn't recognise him at first because of his sturdy pink skin. He bobbed his head and Nick mouthed 'thank you' because it hurt too much to speak and he wouldn't have heard it anyway. He got the gist and gave her a quick thumbs up signal.

A horse galloped past them with an armoured man taking the reigns. In one hand he held a long pointed pole like a javelin spear similar to the Queen's. He rode up to the pieces of the fragmented dragon taint and let out a cheer and stabbed his pole up to the sky. Nick recognised him as St George, the slayer of all things. With a victorious wail, the he pulled on the reigns and the horse stood on its hind legs, issuing a grand gesture of triumph before it landed on all fours and galloped away again.

Nick crouched over her knees with a hand across her ribs. Edie put a hand across her back. Nick rested a hand on top of hers but didn't have the energy to speak. They caught each other's eyes and their thoughts were passed by reading the others expression.

"Peace is OK. The Quadriga was pretty devastated so she took it back to Pauls. What now?" said Edie, panting hard.

Nick opened her mouth but closed it again as her throat blocked up. Edie shook her head.

"I don't know if I can trust you, Nick, but I have to. More importantly, you've got to trust yourself. We're counting on you to do the right thing. For all of us."

"Stay-" Nick breathed, "stay on the edge, watch yourself. Wait till we've taken down some of these before trying to get to the Stone."

"And then what?"

"Err…"

"You don't have a plan!"

"Look! I'm trying my best to fit together the pieces of everything we've seen and heard and read about, but I can't get a handle on anything right now. Just give me time and I'll see if anything hits me."

"Something already _has_ hit you," Edie said firmly and nodded down at the hole in Nick's hoody. Nick rolled her eyes and let out a gruff pant.

"You could spend all day pointing out my flaws to me if you wanted, but that ain't gonna help anyone right now. My mind's constantly spinning and I'm exhausted. Sorry if I'm letting the side down but you're the Key after all. I thought you might of at least come up with something."

Edie couldn't argue. The fighting was too loud and her mind was spinning as well. Everything was in shambles and it was too messy to come up with any alternative. She checked Nick over once more. She seemed to be hiding her full pain behind her eyes. Or trying to put it to the back of her mind so it hurt less. Either way, she looked like death.

##########

George was shifting around the area, trying to figure out the best way to attack. A shower of bullets rained down on him and he ducked to the side. A young, unarmed boy spotted him and ran up behind, walloping a hefty fist on the back of George's neck. The boy was dressed in brown rags. They almost looked like an ancient school uniform; shorts with braces and a sweaty buttoned shirt with the sleeves ripped off hanging in tatters. His hair was messy and missing big chunks. He wore no shoes. He looked a bit like a savage rodent. George was stunned by the attack and collapsed onto the floor. The boy was definately a servant, but it being a child creeped George out even more. The boy then let fly a whole barrage of uncoordinated jabs and kicks. With his face buried into the ground George coiled up into a ball, trying to block the attack and wait for a moment of weakness to strike back. Judging from the thrust of strokes and the angle at which they hit him, George figured that his opponent was about the same size. It still hurt like hell though. Still face down he saw something flash a sparkle of light into his eyes. He looked and at the same time sent a powerful kick backwards, striking the servant's ankles and making the boy cry out and pace back. George lunged forward and grabbed the hilt of Smith's silver sword. It was heavy but its weight carried it around as George swung it upwards in one big curve. It lashed against the boy's arm and he squealed a high-pitch scream, taking a few more steps backwards and putting his other hand to the wound. George got up and held the sword tightly, pointing it at his attacker. The boy looked even younger than George had expected. He stepped forward and the small lad shuffled even further back gingerly and breathing heavily. George wavered on the spot, he didn't want to attack him, he was only a boy. But then George thought of Nick, she wasn't eighteen at all- how was he suppose to know exactly how old this child was? The boy grasped tight to his shirt where it was turning red and took George's moment of hesitation to spin round and dodge the crowd, heading towards the periphery of the battle. _Smart move,_ George thought.

While he watched the boy leave something was prodded into his stomach as a wave of air rushed past him. He looked down and at the same time heard a thud behind. Nick had dashed past running low and smacked into the side of another servant creeping up on George. The servant was tall, dark-skinned and had a shaven head. His dark tank top showed off his displayed bulky arms covered in tattoos. He didn't have time to react to the girl barging into him. The two of them hit the ground. Nick was on top, wrestling with all her might as the servant below grabbed to restrain her arms. His hands wrapped around her small wrists easily and suspended them from clawing at his eyes.

"I'm gonna kill you, Nick!" the servant shouted.

"You wouldn't be the first," she shouted back then head-butted him.

His eyes flickered and rolled backwards and Nick yelled and wrenched her arms out of the grasp, pulling them to her head as her eyes convulsed with a painful throbbing. The servant brought his hands to his face and Nick managed to wriggle away and stand, then ram one last kick at the servant's head. He went out cold.

"Geez! That hurts a lot more than it looks," she snarled through clenched jaws.

George looked at the bundle Nick had shoved at him. Two small mirrors that he knew belonged to the Walker.

"Take them!" Nick glanced at him briefly through painful, squinted eyes and gritted teeth then ran and blurred back into the crowd.

George felt untouchable; brandishing the sword and using the mirrors to vanish when danger approached and reappear away from it. He had trouble using the mirrors to begin with. You had to get them exactly in line to open the gate, and the level of such a concentrated effort needed was hard to keep up with when he was always having to check he wasn't about to get shot, stabbed, or worse. Once stepping into the mirrors George found that he had to have a clear thought of an exit, otherwise he felt he was being entangled into the trap of black void between space.

One time he was almost too late to move; a bright light had blinded him and he disappeared just before a double-decker night bus slammed into the giant Brute Nick had turned alive. It was sucked underneath and as George appeared to one side he heard its bones crunch under the weight as it let out a shriek which struggled to escape its throat. It was torn apart by the underside of the vehicle, blood spurted out of popped vessels and its flesh was grinded into lumps of pink mush by the thread of the tires against the grit on the road. George felt sick at the mound of hair, torn scales and entrails all reduced to pulp smeared on the road. The bus didn't stop. The driver felt a bump and checked his side mirror but the road was clear. He was too tired and confused to explain it so he pushed down on the accelerator and continued. While the bus passed, the battle seemed to halt as everyone blindly panicked, throwing themselves clear from the middle of the road. There was a huge scramble as people tried to march through the crowd to safety. Neither side were stupid enough to want to get that unLondon involved with things.

###########

Edie was creeping around the battle's edge, offering water to the injured and keeping them out of trouble. She held a small knife that a spit had given her but it didn't make her feel much safer. However it seemed like most of the taints were keeping wary of her for fear of glinting them or melting them down like she had done to the dragon. She still didn't know what was going on or what to do. She looked over at the Stone. Her side were still no nearer to getting close to it, it's inner circle of protection still remained undamaged and more spits were beginning to retreat to St Pauls. She watched an unmanned horse run past her and flare up backwards on its too feet, panting and hollering in alarm. She ran up to it and spread her hand out in front, telling calming reassurances. It came down on all fours. She shushed it and reached a hand up to its face, stroking down its smooth bronze head, trying to calm it. It huffed and trotted from side to side before settling down. A quick decision was made and Edie tried to hoist a leg up into one of the stirrups. She had trouble reaching as the horse was far larger than a living horse. After a few tries it understood what she was getting at and bowed its front legs, lowering the stirrup far enough down to get her foot in. She kicked her leg over the other side and got balanced; realising neither foot now reached the stirrups. "_Great_," she thought but nevertheless grabbed the reigns, made a small kick and a 'yup' sound and it galloped forward at her command. She'd never ridden a horse before but it couldn't be harder than the Last Lion.

With haste it plunged into the main gather, knocking taints over and expelling them away from spits. Edie hung on tightly until she was on the edge of the skirmish. A wounded soldier was writhing on the floor, lolling away from the fighting. The horse stopped besides him and bobbed its head. Edie slid down. The soldier had badly hurt his leg; the bronze had been sliced half open.

"I can heal you," said Edie.

"I bet you can," the soldier said. "There's many that need you, and _will_ need you by the time all this is over. But that's not why you're here, Nightingale, is it?"

Edie stayed quiet hoping he would be able to tell her what she needed to do. Hoping he could tell her the answer to everything. But all he did was look at her for a long drawn-out beat and she had to look away, afraid that he would see the uncertainty in her eyes.

"It won't take long."

Edie placed a hand on his leg and felt the warm spark.

"Neigh! child," he said, slapping her hand away. "Just battle scars. Nothing really. You do what you came here for. We're counting on it."

_No pressure then._

Everyone was counting on her to do that right thing, but as she felt about what she needed to do, she reckoned it was too much. Too much responsibility. Too much choice. Too much risk. But she didn't think she could make those choices, and didn't think she could take the risk. She knew how Nick felt now.

"Hey, come over here," Edie turned round and caught the eye of a nearby spit who followed her order. Together they helped the hurt man to clamber onto the horse.

"Thank you," the wounded man said.

"You gonna be okay?" said Edie.

"Yeah. No problem. It's my horse," he laughed.

With one arm he held his bad leg and then pulled at the reigns and the horse trotted back towards St Pauls.

##########

BLAM BLAM BLAM _Click._

"Damn," the Gunner grumbled as he reloaded, unable to pretend that his hands weren't shaking.

He was still firing bullets with the Fusilier behind the barricade to one side of the battle, but now he seemed at more concern. The majority of his bullets- which were rapidly running out- were mostly missing their target. But nothing seemed more futile than shooting at taints at this moment. His mind wouldn't work straight and his eyes felt like they shouldn't be wasting their time looking for targets and instead ogling at his skin. Everything about him was not only messed up and wrong, it was right. It felt right, which was why it was so wrong.

"You okay, man? You look like you've seen a ghost. In fact, you look like one," said the Fusilier with a nervous smile.

"Yeah I should try and get more sun," the Gunner joked as he looked down at his bleach pale skin arms. He still found it hard to believe that they were his.

"'Course he's not OK," the Officer interjected. "Just look at him. That's some messed up stuff, that is."

"Thanks for the encouragement," the Gunner sulked.

"D'you feel much different?" asked the Fusilier with genuine bewilderment. "Like, you know, we tend to feel human even though we know we ain't, but we imagine we are because we can still feel. Is it quite like the real thing?"

The Gunner felt all eyes on him at this moment. Even the Officer took his die-hard stare away from the battlefield and waited for the answer. The Gunner's eyes were only able to find the floor. He didn't reply immediately. In one way it _did _feel the same… roughly. It really was…sort of. It made him angry he felt this doubt. He was still the Gunner. Good old Gunner. But he couldn't help noticing that part of him was feeling very differently about it. In that way, that comparison he was hit with when he changed was totally new, and he the two would never come anywhere close.

"Sure. It just takes a bit of getting used to. Like suddenly being French or something. Still the same, just a little bit…different."

He smiled through what he thought were his lies. He didn't dare tell them. Couldn't tell them. He felt so bad about it but then, what good would it bring them to tell the truth? Have them believe what they want. They needed it. Especially now.

When they were so close to death they needed to feel alive.

BOOM.

All the angst and confusion and self-doubt were pushed away when the battle became fresh with fire and everyone's mind ran on impulse. Amongst all the carnage of war, it bottled down to the pure adrenalin that made the Gunner and all its battlers keep on going. The time when he didn't really think it was his mind controlling him. It was just a animal instinct, a spontaneity that for some reason won out over his thoughts and silenced them. It was the noise of the firing, the smell of the ammo and the…blood. With his tongue scouting the inside of his lip, he realised for the first time what it tasted of. He ducked down low and got his head in the game.

"Throw another grenade. These pellets don't stop 'em for long enough."

"Too risky, half of our boys are caught in that rabble now. And where have the Euston mob gone?" boomed the Officer.

Some more bullets fired past them and the Gunner ducked down even further. After a few seconds of enemy fire he sprung up again, his eyes falling onto a familiar man in a white hoody sprinting to the side. The Gunner pointed the barrel forward and fired. It hit the servant square in the middle of his back. He fell, his body hitting the ground and subsequently getting trampled by the rabble of panic around. The Gunner ducked down again.

"I'd love to say I told you so, Nick" he said to himself. He turned away again, looking behind. His eyes opened in surprise. "Talk about _Cannon_ Street."

The Euston mob and some other officers of artillery were tramping behind, heaving a great iron bulk of a large cannon up the street. Westie struggled to lug a cannonball and loaded it, pushing it all the way to the end with a long stick. Another man had another stick with a lit end. He held it down to the cannon and primed it. Corporal North, Private East and Rifleman South of the Euston Mob swung the aim round quickly to the best line of fire and quickly skirmished. The Gunner shouted a warning then held his head down and covered his ears.

BANG.

It was so loud and so quick and so unexpected that they didn't know what had happened. The ball fired through the air towards a line of servants. It battered them down, again and again, never slowing. They didn't stand a chance. They fell like dominoes. The Mob then hurried to load another.

"Oh, so you won't throw a grenade but you'll fire a bloody cannon?" shouted the Fusilier, startled.

The Gunner found himself laughing quite manically, hearing the Fusilier in muffled tones. His ears buzzed madly.

"Yeah that's right," said South. "Blow 'em to smithereens. Let's see how clever they are coming back to life then!"

"Revenge is sweet," said Westie, running his finger in a slice across his neck.

"Stand lively," the Officer shouted as another hail of response attack bullets repeatedly forced their way towards them through the air, only breaths away from target.

"Ahhhh!"

There was a loud _'shink'_. The Gunner yelled as a bullet deflected off his tin helmet and grazed his forearm. For the first time he stared at his own blood creeping out of his own skin. It was alive inside him. He swallowed, made difficult by the lump in his throat. It had unnerved him greatly and turned him an even lighter shade of white. Then he heard another shout ring out behind him and before he knew, he was on his feet, taking large strides after the trio of angry devil taints from St Peter's in Cornhill, who were swift-footing their way after a young, unarmed soldier. They were small, red stone creatures but agile, swiftly bounding forward on all fours, their wasted chests with ribs protruding, taking the strain of their heavy, growling snarls. Horns and twisted faces of engrossed terror, ready to doom anyone who got too close. The Gunner wasn't going to let the fear stop him, if anything it overrode his senses, reminding him of the turn of day, and the true soldiers in the war. It urged him on knowing he was capable of such bravery. He headed down Cannon Street as another break out of ammo was fired behind him, followed by another bang from the cannon.

############

Nick recognised the shout, and it pulled her floating conscious back to reality. She'd fallen down by a side wall and woken covered in debris and even had another body lying across her waist. She pushed till it slid off her, avoiding the sight and smell of it, then she stood, holding the wall while her mind span madly with black spots. She coughed dust up from her lungs. She noticed that the wall was cracked all the way down and the area below her hand was caved in and crumbling with debris. Her memory came back in parts and she had to guess the pieces to make them match. She'd been running and then the pain hit. Pain that her mind shut off because it was too great. She remembered the burning in her heart. She remembered her voice scream. She'd collapse in a blanket of darkness. It was exactly the same pain she'd felt when Smith had died, but worse. It was pain full of hate and greed and anger. She knew the Brute was dead.

She looked to where the shout had come from. There was a squawk and a rush of wind as the Clocker was chased away by a great flying pterodactyl. The sounds of his garments on his waistcoat ringing together only attracted more taints. Nick chased after him. A cannon ball flew past him and he swerved to avoid the resulting explosion and found himself cornered by the great bird-like reptile. A small piece of shrapnel dug into his skin dangerously close under his clock eye and drew blood. He swore and dithered backwards. She noticed he did not have his staff and was unprotected. His back was against the wall, trying to dodge from side to side but he could not get around it. The pterodactyl extended its magnificent wingspan so there was no where the Clocker could go. It drew closer to him, its long beak snapping...

"Oi!" Nick's voice called. The bird turned around. "You don't want to hurt him. You want to fly away."

Nick was stood right behind the bird, forcing her mind to keep strong with her own confidence that the bird would obey. It dithered for a second, like it had forgotten something. Confused, it flapped its wings and took off from the ground, flying away in no particular direction without a care. It sent up particles of burnt amber ashes into the air and the pair of them shielded there eyes. The Clocker, looking haggard and pale, viewed Nick with an expression she could not put a marker on. It was somewhere between angst and guilt but she wasn't in the right state of mind to extrapolate any information from it. She nodded at him and he went to open his mouth but both of them were set on by taints straight away and ran off on different routes, the Clocker heading into the clear and Nick being forced back into the centre of the battle by a wolf taint with a large-set snarling jaw full of piercing canines. Its fur was bristling upwards on edge and it's head hung low, creeping slowly towards her with a deathly stare of huge, yellow eyes. She span on her heels and ran as quickly as she could.

##########

Edie crept behind a nearby bin and stopped to drink some water. It was at an angle to the wall such that she could crouch in the small space that opened up between them. She concealed herself, but the space was too small to turn around in without having to stand up and risk being seen. But it was only for a moment whilst she unscrewed the cap and if she looked up ahead she would be able to see the shadows if anyone came up behind her.

Then a hand grabbed her arm.

She swung around but the hand that was on her arm was now clutching her jumper around the neck and spinning her around. At first her eyes didn't see anything, and the light she saw did not alter with shades or movement to suggest anything was there. But then the feeling of the hand around her neck tightened and when she concentrated, saw blurs of movement ahead. She blinked hard but things were happening too fast. Another hand pushed flat into her forehead and snapped it back into the hard metal of the bin, forcing her legs to collapse underneath so she fell onto her rear. Her eyes closed with the impact and then her throat seemed to plummet into her stomach rapidly as she accelerated upwards. As she was boosted into the air, she gasped as the hands around her clothing became focused into solid shapes with wisps of smoke-like colour around the wrists. She reached the peak of the lift and it looked like she was sitting on an invisible chair. It was with such speed that gravity fought to catch up with her, and her legs only dropped to hang and kick out in a struggle above the ground when whatever had grabbed her shook hard and dropped her back down. It crunched her toes when the ground met her feet at awkward angles. The hands bunched with her cloth pushed up into her chin, raising her head up high so she had to stretch her legs till it hurt to get any real balance or room to breathe. By the movements around her, she knew the whole ordeal could not have lasted more than a few seconds. Her eyes obeyed her brain and tried to distinguish between the masked cloak of air and the waves of peach fog settling into something like a face.

She recognised him as the servant George had chased after. Lampard flittered about like an erratic tick. One side of his greased back hair was ruffled and messy. A long white scar ran diagonally across his cheek. She looked in horror as one of his ears was sliced at the top and hung off the side off his head. Her spirit charred into the conflagrant hollows of his eyes, burning up a treat and roasting with the fuel from her fear as he spoke.

"How stupid people are. How they devote and forfeit everything just because of kinship from blood bonds."

Edie swung for him but her fist kept punching air. It was like all the molecules in his body were free and able to move about and change position. He pushed her backwards and in a blink, he was already behind her, catching her as she stumbled and restraining her arms behind her back. She wriggled and kicked but it did nothing. He held her tighter.

"Let's see how much blood you have left after the Stone is finished with you."

He dragged her backwards closer to the Stone. The inner circle of servants parted to let him past.

"George!" Edie screamed.

Lampard's hand covered her mouth and dragged her further. She felt her breathing get forced and heavy as if the Stone's force was squeezing the life out of her.

If George had noticed he could have used the mirrors to save her, but he was too busy defending himself. Everyone was too busy to notice. Everyone except a large, black bird that swooped down behind Lampard without a sound. The Raven's wings flayed violently against his face and its talons clawed at his neck. Lampard tried to dodge but for once he was too slow. He was not expecting the attack as his ears did not hear like they used to. The Raven's beak pushed into his eye socket and he howled. He let Edie go and fell to his knees, clutching his face. Edie ran but was held back by another two servants. She fell to her knees as well and screamed George's name. The two servants dragged her within a yard of the Stone, her knees burning against the ground as she tried to resist.

"Edie!"

George had caught on to what was happening and ran up to the inner circle. Servants stood in his way and he quickly dealt with one with a swing of Smith's sword across the stomach. Then the others closed in and it was too confined to make the most out of the weapon.

"No!" he yelled.

A servant grabbed the back of his jumper and he did nothing but squirm and strive. He reached into his pocket for the mirrors but they snapped apart in his hand and one half fell to the ground and rolled away. The hands clawing for him restrained him. He saw Edie ahead being further dragged away and something inside him snapped. He felt a rage inside him build up with the ferocity of a firework going off in your face. He felt the same as before he'd smashed the dragon statue at the museum and couldn't help but feel the guilt of all this happening because of him. His face flushed with irate savagery. The uproar of his guts span him into a frenzy of wild lunging and slicing. He wielded Smith's sword in mad circles, the madness refusing to give in to exhaustion and pain and use it to only build on the feared thought of not being good enough, which added his internal anger to use as strength. He felt the servants ease back but the fury already gathered drove his mind into something he didn't even know he could feel, and thought was beyond him. It was pure anger and violence, and he craved the taste of defeat on their faces and the blood that was spilt; something which didn't satisfy him as the servants didn't bleed.

Something blue caught his eye and he looked to see Nick in her baggy hoody, also picking into the servants a few yards away. She punched one in the face but she was pushed back and stumbled. She took some breaths then went out of sight as George continued fighting. On tiptoes he could just see Edie on her knees. He called out to her again but she didn't hear.

Lampard orbited half a pirouette so effortlessly that it would lead people to believe he wasn't restricted by air resistance. His movements were so fleeting that what people saw of him was usually the trail left from the after burn of past movements.

The Raven hung underneath nothing and flapped up to gain altitude. But before it even attempted another assault, Lampard had gone and was now behind. His figure shimmered in the instant it took him to dash a step sideways, barging into another servant and extracting the gun delicately out of his hand, and cracker-jacked himself back to the position he had stood in a second before. The other servant, now unarmed, curled his index finger until it embedded into his palm, then looked in astonishment at his empty hand as the trigger of the gun and the gun its self had disappeared before his eyes. Lampard held his arms out in front of him, his eyes narrowed down the sight of the gun.

The Raven extended its full wingspan, magnificently perched in full suspension on the air. Its head turned a quarter to meet the sound of the bullet. It thudded into the Raven's soft back, and with a stricken '_caw_' from its break, was thrown out of sight.

Feathers twirled gently to the floor.

Lampard, unusually slow for a change, perhaps out of pain, walked up to Edie and brushed the two servants away so he could grab her again. His eye had already gone the same pinky cloudy colour as the Walker's had gone when Edie had blinded him. There were fresh, white claw marks running all across his face, but no blood. He stood tense, fists tightly clenched around her clothes, chest rising and falling heavily, looking like some demon spook, fresh out of the grave to unleash his vengeance on the world. A wraith spectre, null of anything even close to human.

Lampard seemed to be grabbing Edie's shoulders but she looked down and his hands were now on her arms and he was bringing them closer to the grill of the London Stone.

"The angels have let it be said they grant you no saviour," she heard him say to her in a demon voice. "You shall be the first recruit to this blossoming new territory the war will lay ahead."

"No!" Edie screamed. "Help! George!"

Edie was pushed down further onto all fours and screamed so loud that Lampard had to squeeze his good eye shut as his permanent scowl contorted a twisted mouth of pain. He cranked the gun to her head and for a moment she thought it was all over for her.

"EDIE!"

George saw what was about to happen. He lunged forward but was jabbed in the side of his head and the ground raced up to meet his face. He saw something twinkling; a reflection bounced into his eye, and looked to see the glass mirror a few yards away. He couldn't reach it and his body couldn't fight the pain to move.

Edie saw Lampard's chest palpate and his foot fumble a small step forward in a body flinch that was uncharacteristic of his normal fluent procession of journeying. The hand holding her tightened and his lips pulled a taut frown. Edie realised she'd seen that same look on Nick when the Darkness had been disciplining her. Lampard's eyes flicked to the Stone.

Edie could feel the Stone's presence; the dark calling for her touch. It sensed her just as much as she did to it and it exerted its efforts to bond further. No stone had ever exerted such a pull force before. She was terrified of what she would see- and what she would feel- when she glinted it. Edie's hands were now so close they were touching the iron bars. There was a fizz then a click and the whole grill came off the wall and clattered to the ground. She felt the force so close now, clutching at her hands, dragging them forward. The force was so strong that Lampard shifted and was now standing behind her, one hand covering his bad eye, the other sweeping his hair back into style. He knew he could let go and let the Stone take over, but he threw one final blow of revenge. He kicked Edie hard in her back and she was chopped forward, hands finally making a connection with the Darkness.


	58. Force

A blinding heat seared the back of Edie's eyes as the white hot fury of the Darkness was relinquished upon her. She wasn't glinting it at all. She didn't know what was happening. The full force was shattering whatever thought or emotion Edie had stored in her memory. It was erasing her very inner core. Edie didn't even hear herself scream, but this time, everybody else did. The battle came to a standstill as everyone turned to the Stone. The inner circle of protection raised its weapons in a defiant bid to warn everyone looking to stay back.

Another heard the scream, and a great bulk of strength pandered down the city streets running hell for leather. The Last Lion absconded down Cannon Street. All kinds of weapon and bullets ricocheted of the unstoppable animal.

George was still on the floor, covering his face and being trampled. He felt hands on him then someone yelling his name. He looked up to see two Nick's hovering above him. The illusions transversely swayed until they reached a centre point and he saw her mouthe something.

"MOVE!"

She grabbed his sleeve and began tugging at it. He scrambled onto his knees and the ground started rumbling. Nick dragged him up and away from the Stone.

"No. What about Edie? We've got to-" said George.

"Look!" Nick pointed.

The ground shook more now and George heard raised voices getting louder and closer. People were running away. The atmosphere turned to panic, then, at the top of the street the Last Lion made its appearance with a narling roar. It crammed through the tight space of the battle zone. Nick pulled George but he shrugged her off and ran back to the dispersing inner circle of servants to stoop down and scoop up the other glass mirror. Looking forward he could no longer see Edie because of people sprawling through the street. Nick reached him and he took her hand, and together they threw themselves into the mirror. They landed with a pop next to the Officer behind the barricade.

The Last lion shot forward at break neck speed. It was knocked off course as the worst of the duo of Sphinxs pounced in from the side and took it off guard. The lion retained its footing and roared. The cat hissed. They stood staring at eachother for a few moments as the Sphinx curled onto its back toes. Then it leaped forward and the lion dodged and bit into its neck. The good Sphinx appeared from nowhere are toppled over the lion, pulling the fight apart but pinning its sister to the ground. The lion took the opportunity to move forward. It clawed through the last remains of the inner circle, leaving a trail of mangled servants in its path. It could get no closer to Edie however, as the power from the Darkness kept it at bay. It had created a circle of force around itself, the furthest it could reach beyond the Stone. It could only exert a small amount of power on the world until it was freed, but it was enough to keep them at bay for the meantime. The lion brought its sharp claws in front and pawed forward, but the force would not move. In all its wrath the lion let out an almighty roar of rage. Another flock of taints took to the skies out of fright. Lampard, who had also been contained within the protective circle, smiled as he watched the lion's ineffective attempts.

The light in Edie's head erupted.

There was a rumble from the ground.

An earthquake.

Everyone swayed and fought to remain balanced. George was thrown to the ground. A chimney rattled down a roof and smashed besides him. Smoke started to billow out of a nearby drain. People fell to there knees around him. He held the mirrors up towards each other and thought about Edie, hoping to reach her, but something was wrong. There was no gate created between them. The glass was solid. It wouldn't get him past the Stone's circle of force.

Far beneath their feet the ground was awakening. A Key needed protection and had unlocked the Old power. A torrent of hurling water erupted from the light pool underneath City Temple. It smashed off the walls and flooded the routes of ancient power. A green and gold light in the centre of the pool glowed more fiercely and spread down the corridors. Light and water and power conformed as it filled the lay lines forming a pentacle of protection. All around the Square Mile, cracks started to appear in the ground and the light seeped through, shining high into the sky.

Edie's hands were still bound to the Stone but she felt the darkness inside her head begin to shrink. The edges of her mind forced it into a small ball. She opened her eyes. They were white. Colourless. The ball of dark light in her mind dissipated. The Stone's power was sucked into a vacuum then spat back out. A huge blast refracted out down Cannon Street. There was a snap and a fracture of material. Edie felt an icy line above her eyebrow and then it was replaced by a very strong warmth. A dribble of something feathered down her eyelid. Many people were thrown of their feet and a big window opposite was smashed; it rained glass on them. The shards came shattering down on the ground, echoing the sound around the city.

This was the last thing Nick saw before her vision blurred. Her surroundings went to black and all she could see were two figures in white. Nick had a vague recollection of who they were but before she was sure, they had gone and an arm was on her shoulder. Her vision came back and George was looking back at her strangely. She realised she'd fallen to her knees and he helped her back up slowly as her head throbbed with confusion.

Edie's trembling hands gave way and she came to realise her hands were now free. Her mind was too. The water she had drunk in the underground pool had protected her and it had healed her mind. All her memories came flooding back to her and she was Edie again. She looked down at the Stone. It had turned black, like it was burnt to a crisp and it had a large crack running straight through the centre.

George appeared out of thin air. The circle of force had been broken just as he had tried to pass through the mirrors one last time. He put a hand on her shoulder and she turned around and hugged him. While they were in an embrace they failed to notice the small wisp of dark smoke emerge from the crack in the Stone. The smoke was alive and it knew it was trapped by the power of the ley lines within the pentagon. It slid through the air to a nearby figure, a figure who had fallen during the blast. Now he was getting up and as he breathed in, the smoke was inhaled. Lampard's one good eye turned black. His body went rigid. It was easier to control this person than the last one. This body already had loyalty to it and welcomed it freely. This body was already corrupted.

George and Edie heard Lampard's body jerk and gag as the Darkness from the Stone started to take control of his body. The entwined phantom figure rose oddly to its feet in a slightly levitating posture. The dark figure broke into a possessed smile and looked straight at Edie.

The Last Lion raced.

Dark shadows crawled their way from around Lampard's body. The spread out and forward, and Lampard's arm shot out and grabbed the end of a wisp. His arm yanked back, and controlling the shadow like a whip it lashed forward and entwined around Edie's wrist. She put her other hand on it to try and break it free but her skin couldn't feel it. To her it felt like smoke and her fingers flowed through it. But to Lampard it was like strong leather. With his other hand he wrapped long fingers around another hold of shadows and this time three long wisps were cast out, aiming for Edie's body and neck.

The lion stepped out in front and the shadow flowed around its great paw but could find no purchase. It slid down its fur like oil and it could step free from the black tentacles. It's long tail whipped through the smoke-screen of shadow and cut it apart. The wisps dissolved away.

The lion moved for Edie and George and in one action, it bunched them together and managed to scoop the tops of their clothes into its mouth. It pulled both of them up together and leapt away to the other side of the street where Nick and everybody else- including the servants- were watching from a distance, like they were afraid the spectacle in front of them was about to explode. Lampard held both hands outstretched to the side gracefully, and they became emblazed with dark blue lightning. His body bathed in black swirls of smoke, illuminating bright flashes of electricity. A deep, huffing laugh escaped his being.

Edie turned to shield the light from her eyes and saw another small glow and a dark figure in the distance. A figure that was the Walker who was watching Lampard from the shadows, eyes with fiery vengeance. Hate rose up inside of her, she was about to grab George's sword and aim for him but then the Walker changed his angle of sight towards her and she thought she saw him nod. Edie remained her gaze as she didn't want him to disappear. She flailed with her hand behind her, catching Nick's attention, but Nick was already looking, she had noticed it too. And then they both thought the same. Edie reached into her pocket.

The battle had ended. All were watching the growing war between the Darkness and the Old power. Nick had seen the Stone crack and knew what she had to do. She had realised the solution before but didn't think she was able to do it. But then she had seen the Walker standing in the shadows. She had seen the glow, the light coming from the Walker's ear lobe or more precisely, the small pearl on his earring. The gold light that told them that Edie was a key. She had removed her heart stone from her pocket and the two of them had stared in wonder as her stone was the same as the Walker's pearl.

Nick had had a feeling about what to do ever since she removed the small flint knife from her trousers to light the black powder. Her memory had flashed to Covent Garden, to the Wise One. The small knife in the bowl with the dripping liquid, her last words; _'Remember how it all started'._ Then Nick's memory flashed to the holy well and the congruence, and the ruby, and the words carved in to the ground in red; _'The ruby within is the greatest sacrifice'._ Then her mind flashed to the hooded figure in the red light, the axe, the fear and the terror. She tried to erase that one memory.

She once again removed the knife from her lower jean pocket- the knife that she would rather boil in acid and bury a hundred feet under ground than do what she was about to do. with it She stepped forward. Her plan could be carried out now because she knew it would work. She had to just wait until Edie touched the Stone, then the Old power had ignited and the lay lines became more than just sacred, they became real. They had become a prison for the Darkness. The power cracked the Stone and all broken pacts and all curses the Stone had ever given were broken.

The Walker had realised this. When giving Nick the riddle he had said the word 'you' when talking about the contents of the Book of the City. Nick had thought 'you' meant a Key, and therefore Edie, but what if he did actually mean Nick? _Had he known all along?_ Even now Nick was coming to realise that he'd told her everything she needed to know.

The main fact was that Nick was not a servant anymore. The curse which had suppressed her for over three hundred years had ended and her true abilities had come back into play. She had seen Edie's heart stone change to gold.

Nick was a Key.

The Darkness had now fully taken over Lampard but it was too much for his human body. His brain began to fry and the pain seared his eyes. Nick looked at the knife and breathed heavily. She tried to stop remembering the power it possessed, but somehow she could feel it. And she could remember the pain it had caused her before. The pain it was about to cause her.

Lampard screamed and fell to his knees, bringing his hands to his head. The power was too great to be contained in his frail body. Nick started walking towards him and then raced past him and up to the crack in the Stone.

_At least the pain wouldn't last long_, she thought. She was mortal now. Touching the Stone would kill her. Death would come and take her away. This time it would keep her. There would be no returning to this world.

She held the knife in her hand and remembered.

The oath between Maker and Stone. The betrayal of the flint dagger. The death of the Master Maker's son.

All this because of a blood sacrifice.

That was how it had all started.

Blood. The Walker had told her. Nick prayed and drew the blade across her hand, releasing a loud cry as the flesh was cut and the blood was drawn and the pain exploded. Her hand slammed down into the crack of the Stone.

Nick's vision flickered just as her hand hit something inside the Stone which felt oddly like an a hand, but it was also damaged like the outer shell. Then her vision turned white and nothing felt of anything anymore. She didn't have time to think about it, but it would have reminded her of the white from in-between worlds. She felt the fresh blood from her hand run through the stone and play with the old blood stored from her betrayed pact. She felt something, a weird sensation inside her. A powerful one. All of a sudden this was all she could think about. There were no memories, there were no surroundings. No pain.

There was just the power.

She _was_ the power.

A singular thought pushed its way to the front of her mind. A thought she agreed to but before she could ponder on it, it was gone. It had been replaced by noise. She could hear something. It started out quiet, a small hum, but it grew and grew and suddenly there was light that was blinding. Nick's body jolted, her sight was dragged into focus and she was in the street again. She knew she had always been in the street but her mind had been somewhere else.

A long, agonising scream was being emitted from the remnant of Lampard's body but Nick did not think this was him, this was the power of the Darkness screaming. It had lost the war and now the Old power was crushing it. Wisps of shadows started to emerge from the sockets of Lampard's eyes and hung in the surroundings. Nick was motionless, her thoughts remained stationary and she gazed upon the wisps grouped in mid air until they eventually dispelled. Without a host the Darkness couldn't survive. It knew the ones surrounding it were working too strongly against it to control. It knew it had lost. The black tendrils of the wispy energy hung in the air motionless for a moment and then faded into nothing.

The shell of Lampard's body dropped and rested lifelessly on the floor.


	59. Decision

The Clocker had made it into the clear. Even with his feet echoing off the road so loudly that it made his location quite apparent, he'd given enough space between him and the Stone that his pursuers had fallen back. He slowed and rested against the wall, breathing heavily through the pain of moisture finding its way into the cut below his eye. He heard the battle still continuing in the distance and felt pain and sadness curl up inside him. His heart hammered against the inside of his chest.

He looked up to the sky as if the stars held answers for him.

He had promised himself he would only leave for a little while; get his breath back, determine the seriousness of the cut beneath his eye, find a new weapon, then return. Yet his body was betraying him, he wasn't going back. _Why wasn't he going back?_ What was stopping his foot taking the first step?

Anger found his voice and he yelled and slammed his fist into a wall, resting his head into his arm.

_Why had he run? Coward._

The word ensnarled him. Trapped inside his consciousness, linked by chains of conviction and the recollection of the past. What Aemilia had said to him had struck a nerve, or rather, torn it apart and thrown it back together haphazardly so the pieces didn't fit together so smoothly any more and would never heal. He thought he was better than all that, which was why he'd gone back to the middle of the battle, to help the spits. Yet he couldn't help thinking that part of him had gone back there to see the Stone, the greedy, self-centred part of him who just wanted to help himself. He just wanted to end the pain. He couldn't stop thinking about Nick and everything Aemilia had told him about her. That felt worse than any amount of ticking from his eye.

But Nick had just saved him. What was the truth? He knew what he believed deep down, but another part of him wouldn't let him get to it, wouldn't let him believe it without some denial or disbelief.

He was having a crisis of faith.

Then…

A scream.

The Clocker stopped. No moving. No breathing. Even his eye missed a tick. But he must have imagined that because it was impossible.

His body was on pause by the scream that had unhinged something deep in his heart.

The sound. The cause. The meaning behind it.

_No._

He stood and looked back in the direction of Cannon Street, and time ticked away with him unable to do anything. Breathing from the bottom of his lungs. Goosebumps covering his skin in the cold where he stood. Unable to think. Unable to act. Nothing.

And then…

THUD THUD THUD THUD.

He followed the sound and his eyes fell on a great hare behind him, only a few paces away. It battered its foot on the ground at speed, repeating the rhythm of the sound he'd just heard. Then it leapt with great height over him and he turned with head held high, eyes following it. But it travelled too quickly for his spin to keep it in eye's range, and by the time the Clocker had turned half a cirle, the hare had vanished.

A faint crackling broke the remaining silence. Spots of light broke up beneath the ground in front of his toes.

"Ahhhhh!"

He fell on his rear end and shuffled back, scrambling and backpedalling his arms and legs away from the light, then stood and watched the light turn to shards connecting the dots of broken earth.

The countdown was happening. It took him a single splice of time to make a decision. He felt the cogs turning in his head in the very moment he knew would define him. A decision to make all decisions.

He jumped.

Jumped across the light before the barrier was made, concealing the City.

Jumped into the prison.

Jumped back into the war.

Jumped back into hope.

"Turn again, Clocker," he said to himself, "Turn bloody again."

He watched the light, now gold, turn to a sheen barrier haze, a vapour force of transparency. He took a pace back as the barrier flared, spikes of sunburst scatters reaching out.

"As the bell clinks, so the fool thinks."

He turned quick on his heels, running back to the Stone. He heard another scream in the distance and for all he tried, he became frozen to the spot. His legs wouldn't move and his lungs wouldn't breathe. The blackness caved in on him and the sound of his ticking eye muffled. He felt the ground reach him and everything faded.

A sunburst flare from the barrier got cast out, illuminating the air around him. It whipped out to a point where it wrapped around one of his ankles and dragged him back. His nails scraped at the road, trying desperately to gain hold. He was losing grip and being pulled back. His eyes looked forward just as the hare came back into view and hopped so that it came a metre away. It sat staring as the Clocker moaned and grappled through the pain of his muscles and looked puzzled at the animal watching him suffer.

Another flare spat out of the flaming gap in the ground and hooked around his hand, setting his palm alight with a pain of fire. He screamed out as his hands burned under the friction of trying to stop being hauled to the light. He felt the light get inside his mind and it burned. A stronger hold took over him, and as the light engulfed him, he stopped trying to fight it. He looked at the hare as it sat watching and smiled to it as he let the light take over.


	60. Heal

Edie had seen Nick run to the Stone after looking from the Walker to her heart stone. Edie knew what it meant but she didn't know what to do. Nick obviously did. Edie watched her red stained hand disappear down the crack in the Stone and saw her eyes blaze white. Edie was scared, watching her friend's body jolt and jump. _Had that happened to her too?_ She was rooted to the ground, unable to help. The wind blasted around her, whipping her hair up into her face so she couldn't see. She reached her hand out and George's found hers at the same time as they gave eachother balance. Then Edie heard a scream and saw the shaky man hit the floor. She looked back to Nick who's eyes were now normal but she was utterly still, like a statue. Her knife had fallen to the floor. It had all happened so fast. All kinds of theories were running around Edie's head. Had Edie pushed Nick too hard, so now she'd gone and done something stupid and out of her control? She thought the worst.

She crushed her thoughts by running up to Nick and held her hands tight around her shoulders shaking her, but Nick didn't respond. She was cold. Her eyes were wide but focused on nothing. There was blood running all down her fingers and dripping onto the road.

"Nick!" Edie cried shaking her harder this time.

Nothing.

Edie threw a glance to the burnt out crisp of what was once the Stone. Was it over? Had they won? But had they lost their friend?

An abrupt, seize of air was guzzled from around as Nick gulped then clutched her stomach bent double, vomiting over the side of the pavement. But on an empty stomach there wasn't much to force back up so she was left gagging and coughing. She stayed bent over on her knees, waiting for her stomach to stop heaving through the motions. She screamed as the pain from her cut hand reached her and she cradled it close to her body. Then she spotted a gleam of shiny metal on the floor besides her and quickly darted to scoop the knife up and leapt to her feet, holding it firmly but shakily.

"Woahhh," called out Edie, with her hands out cautiously in front of her.

Nick's eyes searched about all over the place, disillusioned and scared, and then came to rest on the knife, now slack in her grip. She got her breath back and came round, getting a sense on what was going on. Her face turned disgusted at what she was holding and let it slide out to the floor. Then she let out a sob as she saw the blood in her hands spread. She was covered in the stuff. She felt the pain and wrapped her arms over her head and ears, hiding her breaking face she wanted no one to see.

"Nick, are you okay?" said Edie.

Nick looked through her fingers, looked around, others were watching, mostly spits. Some were wounded, some sitting down recovering. Most of them wore an abrasive expression. Shocked. Scared. Joyful?

"Is it over?" said Nick. Her voice was dry and course, like she was transmitting the vile taste in her mouth as sound.

"Look," said George who had come over to check if she was okay. Nick turned to face where he was pointing. Her eyes rested on the Stone. What was left of it. It looked black and moulded. Split. Old.

A faint wave of noise rose out of the silence. Nick ignored it whilst going over the possibilities of whether the Darkness had gone but it seemed to get louder. A hand placed on her back made her jump and she wrenched round to see George standing close behind her. His other hand was spread out towards the crowd gathered around. They were clapping. The noise she could hear was applause. Very soon after George and Edie joined in and Nick realised...

They had won.

Nick couldn't let herself believe it, but no matter how hard she fought it, her emotions were spilling over. She beamed as all her senses seemed to explode back and she was finally herself again. It was almost too much to realise. Her face had now turned a very bright red. She walked forward through the crowd as hands clamped down onto her shoulder in cheer and thanks were given. Edie caught up with Nick and put an arm around her. Catching her eye, Nick's were blissfully shiny, but full of relief and joy. George also headed down and patted her on the back and the three of them walked to St Pauls through a fanfare of cheers led on by the Officer who winked at her as she passed and handed her a cloth. Nick smiled in thanks and wrapped the cloth around her cut hand.

Some spits started to make their way back to plinths. A group of them were rolling the giant steel mesh ball back up the street to where it belonged. Dark clouds hung in the sky, which made the gargoyle taints leave in anticipation of rain. Their makers purpose calling to them. Most of the other taints had already returned back to where they had come from. Most servants had fled but some- the ones most reluctant in their servitude- were going to stay in St Pauls until sunrise. They were exhausted after the battle and wanted to stay together for strength.

A lot had fallen in the battle. A few sobs were coming from a group of spits towards the back. Their arms wrapped around each other in comfort while they grieved and mourned. Nick watched the dead statue of Smith be carried away on a made-up stretcher from bits of wood, then saw George head over and rest the sword on top of him. He was taken back to his plinth. She felt sorry that she no longer had the ability to bring him back again.

People started to follow Nick back towards the cathedral. A servant ran up to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. Nick yelped and twirled, reeling back, seeing the dark bruise puffing out the young woman's engorged cheekbone and realising it was by Nick's own hand during a moment of panic in the battle. But the servant was smiling and not looking for pay-back. She brought Nick close into her body with Nick's arms staying clench fisted by her sides with confusion. Before she could react, the servant pulled away.

"Thank you," said the woman. "I- you're hurt."

She nodded down and Nick's eyes followed to her bandaged hand. It was now saturated with blood and dripping to the floor again. Nick tried to block out the pain. It wouldn't be as bad as her shoulder, but it would get worse once the adrenalin wore off. A lot worse.

"I'm fine," said Nick, rocking unsteadily on her toes. "Umm, it's Abigail, right?"

"Call me Abby," the servant grinned back.

Nick remembered her now. She looked like she was in the mid-twenties, and actually, she was a recent servant by about twenty years. Recent, obviously, in terms of Nick's timeline. Her short blonde hair curled around her thin face. She would look beautiful if it wasn't for the dirt etched into her skin and the lines of stress that servitude and the test of time had played on the creases on her forehead. Her blue eyes looked tired. Her long dress was grubby and torn around the sleeves. She looked frozen to the core. Even her so called 'short spell' of slavery had taken its toll on her. She and her boyfriend got cursed by a naive betrayal of depravity from so called 'friends'. So the Stone put them on lighter missions such as- in a gloating irony- recruitment. It took them in at a time it was desperate for good, fresh blood. Not that they were 'good' in the word of servitude.

Nick hated to think about it but she'd actually been a very good servant. She'd tried to forget what the Walker had said but it wouldn't stop orbiting her mind. '_You're a good little soldier for it, no matter how hard you try to defy it.' _Yes, Nick knew the ropes. She'd mastered them, actually. She'd have been quite high up in the running, believably, even without her powers. Which meant she must be evil, because all the best servants like the Walker, Lampard and Aemilia, or even the toadies like Conan and Blaise were all up there with the best of them. It was sickening how these people had competed in some kind of glorified pecking order. The worst of it all was that she'd been right there with them. She tried telling herself that it was over now, and her time serving was just another nightmare. It was just another stepping stone for her to overcome if she wanted to stay away from the depression that had lingered in a dark corner of her soul, waiting for so long.

Abby and her boyfriend had wanted out so badly and Nick felt sorry for them, so she'd promised the couple she would cover for them and cross their names off the list. If only the Walker hadn't stolen it.

"Right. I remember," Nick said. "You and, what's his name?"

"Mathew."

"That's the one…is he…alright?"

"Yeah he's fine. We managed to stay out of the fighting. Well…" she chuckled and pointed at the bruise, "Mostly."

"Yeahhh, sorry about that," said Nick sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Don't sweat it. I guess we had it coming to us. That's Mathew over there…" she pointed a thin arm across to the side of the street. Nick's eyes caught the recognisable figure, head hung low with arms folded across his chest and legs straight but crossed. His baggy hoody half looked grey in shadow, and was torn and mud covered now, but the other half was illuminated by the street lamp and was undeniably white.

"Ah," said Nick.

"He's really sorry about what happened," Abby said quickly, picking up on Nick's tone. "If it wasn't for him, things wouldn't have been so difficult for you. He didn't want to rat you out, he really didn't, but times are hard. I'm pregnant, you see, and-"

"Heck."

"Yeah. The Stone called us and…well, we thought you'd betrayed us. We didn't know what to do. You know the trouble we were in with the Stone. It was selfish and-"

"Don't worry about it," Nick shrugged.

"Thank you." She hugged her again and with a shy smile said; "Anyway, your Gunner friend soon sorted him out. Taught us both a lesson. Sorry again."

Nick's stomach dropped as she realised she hadn't seen the Gunner for a while and wondered where he was. Then she eyed Abby again and realised she was waiting for a reply. Nick nodded with a small smile and congratulated her about the baby before moving away with a last gesture of a hand on Abby's shoulder.

The Queen made use of her chariot and gave lifts back and forth to St Pauls. Britannia was helping her, who seemed as radiant as ever. Only a few scrapes and a slighty damaged shoulder to show for all her fighting.

"Hey," called Nick, running over. "Have you seen the Gunner?"

"Not since the fiasco with the chariots," said the Queen, looking at Nick cradling her hurt hand. It looked bad. "Try inside the cathedral."

This made Nick more worried, the Queen always made sure she knew every aspect of her battles and where all the warriors were at any point. But surely Nick would have felt it if anything had happened to him, like she would have with Smith and the Brute.

The Last Lion was also giving lifts before Edie gave it one last pat on the shoulder and stroked behind its ear before it retired and went back to Trafalgar Square, to remain silent until the next Key awakened it.

"Bye Rory," she called after it with a wave.

"Rory?" said George with a pig-smile and cocked eyebrow.

"What?"

"All the names in the world and you chose that. It's not exactly original."

"Says the guy who named a gargoyle _Spout._"

"Touché."

George wrapped an arm around her shoulder and together the pair set off walking. A black bird swooped and landed on Edie's shoulder. She stroked the Raven under its wing. The feathers were soft, clean and new. It nestled on her shoulder with a faint 'caw'. Even the bird with all the remembrance of time knew that sometimes the rules didn't apply. It had tried to save Edie on hope rather than regard for facts. Sometimes, that's all that can be done, as fate or chance alone decides which choice unlocks the loop of succession. It knew it alone hadn't altered the course of events, but knew the righteousness and courage of trying to succeed was often worth more than the result, and for that, it was happy.

##########

Reaching the door of the cathedral, Nick hesitated. She'd always felt it wasn't right for her to enter a cathedral as grand at St Paul's, and so she never had. She didn't feel worthy. She felt too sinful. Sidestepping Edie, she went around to the side wall surrounded in early morning shadow and sat on a bin next to the wall, resting her aching head back against the back of her hands and shutting her eyes. She jumped at a sharp pain and then cradled her hurt hand again. It was getting worse.

She heard Edie and George tiptoe up to her but she didn't react to their presence.

"We need to do something with that," said George nodding at Nick's hand, but Nick wasn't looking.

"It'll heal," said Nick with hidden tears in her eyes.

It would, of course, with time. Just like her shoulder. But not properly. Nick hung her head and felt like bursting into tears and screaming to the heavens. She was well aware that underneath the sodden bandage, the blood was coming fast and thick. It wouldn't stop, not for a long time. And the pain would be there always.

"What happened back then?" Edie asked uncertainly. She wanted to give Nick a rest but knew everybody else would be looking up to them for answers and she didn't want to be just as clueless. The need for answers was burning inside her.

"I think…we were protected."

"The water," said George, "the water you drunk under City Temple…"

"So it did have a purpose?" said Edie.

"The water there runs down the ancient lay lines, sharing with it the Old power. The power that we ingested," said Nick.

"You drunk it too?" said George.

Nick nodded.

"I thought I was done for," admitted Edie. "I felt the Darkness inside me, hacking my brain. It would have killed me." George gulped hard but Edie carried on. "Is that what you felt?"

"Yes," said Nick, "but that's how I've always felt, for as long as I can remember. It's what the curse feels like. But my mind has been numbed by it for so many years. You got the full strength of it in one blow without forewarning."

"Oh. But what about-"

"Where's the Gunner?"

Edie shut up, understanding Nick's tone of frustration in her deep sigh. She knew Nick couldn't deal with anymore right now, least of all her questions. She decided to give her time. Edie shrugged in reply and when Nick looked at George, he frowned and mirrored the gesture.

"What about-"

"We don't know where he is either," issued George quickly in a sad whisper.

Nick buried her head in her hands and let escape a bigger sob as the lump in her throat grew. She slid down the side of the bin into a small, crouched ball, looking shattered and deflated.

A heavy panting rounded the corner. George and Edie turned to see the Black Friar, sporting a stern face which broke into relief when he spotted them.

"Phew, you're OK. I've been looking for you three," he said.

"We're fine," said George, "…mostly."

The Friar shot concerned looks at both George and Edie then steadied up to Nick who still looked lost behind her hands. As the Friar got close he hoisted his cassock up so he could bend down on one knee besides her.

"I should have trusted you," he said gently with remorse.

"I couldn't save him," Nick whispered.

"Who?"

"Lampard. I couldn't…" Nick said it with a blank face but with a mixture of nerves and anger playing on the chords in her voice, so the Friar didn't know how to interpret it. Her face avoided his eyes and she sat cradling her hurt hand. The Friar sighed and put a hand on her arm.

"He was a lost soul. The Darkness had already corrupted him past the threshold of return. His true spirit was gone long before tonight. The Walker scarcely clung on to the scarce frays of his humanity, no doubt because he had you in his life. But there was nothing you could do for Lampard. The first blood sacrifice was to appease the Darkness, yours was to destroy it, and you hit it right at the very core of its own stone prison. It was your own decision; free from other orders or corruption. It wouldn't have been true otherwise. You were willing to die for them. Sacrifice is more than just blood. It's about kindred. Innocence. Friendship. Love. An offering without cause for power or position. The bond of spirit. The same Spirit which flows through the hands of Maker's when they sculpt. It gives purpose, life. But just as a making hand can be used to mar, so can a sacrifice. Lampard didn't understand it. The Stone misjudged it."

Nick lifted her head so they caught each other's eyes and was hit with an old realization of comforting understanding.

"Thank you, my friend," said Nick.

The Friar beamed at her.

"_You can't squeeze blood from a stone,"_ came the squeaky voice of Little Tragedy from around the corner with a nervous smile.

The Friar shot a steely look at the small boy who's smile then wavered as he tiptoed backwards. He caught Nick's eye and her face huffed into a small smile.

"Back inside, Imp!" the Friar boomed.

Tragedy hot-footed it out of view.

The Friar turned back around and Nick's smile caught on. He sighed and shook his head as his mouth curled up. Compassion played on his eyes which alleviated the torment in hers. The Raven stepped off Edie's shoulders and rode the air under its wings until it perched on Nick's knee. She reached out to feel its soft feathers. It clacked its beak and Nick's eyes softened as if she was understanding it. It then flew back to Edie.

"Come inside," the Friar said softly, reaching out for Nick's arm which she let him take, helping to lift her up. Her other hand reached out to steady herself on the stone wall of the cathedral.

Her hand stuck fast to the wall.

Her skin rippled around the suction and warmed to a point where Nick screamed at the burn and pulled back as hard as she could but couldn't move. She was frozen. A black-out of the world occurred. Her eyes slammed closed. Wind blew her hair out wide and travelled on a wave which reached past George and Edie. They looked at each other with concern for her, both knowing what was happening but wondering if she knew too.

Nick felt a burning behind her eyes: a bright light wanted to shine through her lids but she was too scared to open them for fear it would blind her. However, the pressure building was too much and her eyes snapped open then shut. In that split second she saw her hand on wood, not stone. Her eyes squinted tight and she screamed as her neck snapped back. They opened almost immediately, compulsed by spasms of electricity.

Daylight. But a weird, harshed light dulled the sharp edges and moulded colours into more neutral ones, running into each other like a watercolour painting. This non-reality feeling was weird and dream-like, but her feelings were all too real. George, Edie and the Friar had gone. Her hand now tingled with numbness. Wood was now stone, and the wall remained the fix on her. She heard a crackling on a breeze which carried the heat of flames flickering above her head, engulfing the roof.

Her eyes shut again.

Once open again she felt nothing against her hand and she thought she was free. However, her hand was still ready stuck and could only make slight movements of her fingers attached to a transparent screen which sent out small ripples of thick air with her movement. Ahead she saw the shell of the cathedral, the wall she should be touching was now rubble and crumpled bricks on the ground.

Time lurched again and her legs got carried with it. This time it spun her around in a vortex of space. Her hair fell in front of her face, blinding her for when her eyes came open once more. This time there was still fire, but the building was re-established, as if many years had passed. The heat burned the back of her head and she spun to see every other building surrounding her alight, casting angry flames out into the spread of night shadows. She heard the roar of the blaze and the screaming of women, the crying of children, and the panic surrounding. A dog barked. A pain stabbed her heart and she forced herself to stay. Her body was screaming to close her lids, but she wouldn't. The deep reds and oranges and yellows swirled ferociously in the defiant reflection of her glinting eyes.

She knew what was happening to her now.

She knew the past was visiting.

With strength she didn't know she had, hiding somewhere inside, she ordered to stay conscious. To see this disaster with her own eyes. Again. Because she knew she wasn't the only girl, alone and scared and trapped in the fire right now. Not too far away from here a little girl would be crouching in the corner of her room, praying to the heavens that rescue would come.

"Hold on," she whispered to herself.

She groaned as the demand for clean air and cool skin became a need too overwhelming. The flames came nearer, and looking up, the roof had now been caught again. She held back the sobs. She didn't think Glints could get hurt when using their gift, not physically anyway, but this felt all too real. The pressure building in her head was at maximum and her legs were trembling with the tension. Her body was doming, dipping slowly until it collapsed it on its self. But she held on, somehow needing to relive this moment- the worst moment- and somehow knowing that she was staying by her young self in the Great Fire, that by going through the same pain together in unity was helping her to trust and believe who she was now, giving her strength for the future as well as the past. If only the young Nick knew what her old self was doing for her now. Nick owed it to the little girl. The innocent girl, whose world would soon change. Nick wanted to tell her that things would be okay in the end, and that no matter how bad things got, carry on, because you'll get through.

Reliving this moment of time gave her some kind of closure. It had brought her back full circle and she could let go.

Close.

Somewhere in the emptiness of blackness she heard a familiar voice from far away. It asked: "I can do that?" The wind whistled loud in Nick's ears but she heard a heavy breath and a deeper voice say: "Yes. Do it now. Be quick."

The slice of time wasn't as fast this time. It had almost slowed to a standstill. Nick almost thought she was seeing a screen-cap, but no. She could see far enough out into the front of the cathedral's side. It was packed. Crowds gathered to all the furthest reaches of the street and surrounded her. Dressed in black suits and smart dresses with hats, people stood silently still with there hands cupped by there waists and their head bowed. Nick reached out to one of them but her hand slipped down the side of them by an invisible force stopping her presence being known. She waved her hand in front of a woman's eyes but she didn't once blink. Being hidden was something Nick was used to, but being invisible and untouchable was a different thing entirely.

Out in Cannon Street and the side of Nick's vision around the corner came a procession of Royal Navy crew, marching in synchronised macabre strides. They were followed by a gun carriage. It held a coffin draped with the Union flag. It made its way slowly down the street as people paid their respect. The melancholy mood was a weird mixture of mourning the loss of a great, and celebrating their life. Nick heard gunshots fired into the air and a moment later shadows passed over the street as an RAF fly-by thundered through the sky above.

Nick closed her eyes slowly this time, feeling like the mood had passed through the setting into her own veins. She couldn't see anymore. She'd had enough.

But her mind swirled again and she was still no longer at the time she had left. The world flipped and her hair flew out, but Nick's mind detached from her body and started to hang behind her, wallowing in exhaustion and pity. She didn't even acknowledge that she had arrived at the next slice of time until the noise rose up and the sun broke out the clouds, sending rays on golden charm into her gleaming green eyes.

The scene now was similar. Very similar, in fact. The crowds were still gathered. People were still dressed in their best. Only now the scenery was crystal clear, sharp and bold. It was bright colours and fancy frills and patterns. People were clapping, cheering, hugging. Streamers and confetti were being thrown by the crowd and Union flags waved in their masses. Military police officers lined the edge of the crowd opening for a large glass coach, inside it a woman and man. The man was dressed in finest martial clothing with medals hanging proudly from his chest. The woman was in a luxuriant silk dress with puffed sleeves and lace and embroidery. The coach drove slowly towards the cathedral front and out of view to Nick at the side. Just with the funeral, the atmosphere was infectious and filled her with hope and jubilance. She felt a tear trace down her cheek.

The hand which landed on her shoulder made Nick leap half a metre in the air. She span on her heels with her free hand in a clenched fist.

Edie was smiling back at her.

"Hello."

Nick looked down her arm also fixed into the wall of the cathedral besides hers.

"What?" Nick replied alarmed.

A large cheer went up from the crowd and everyone clapped like caster-nets. The sound was deafening. Edie covered one ear and laughed.

"What are you doing here?" said Nick.

"That's what friends do. Look out for each other. I shouldn't have been so hard on you. You don't have to go through everything on your own."

Nick beamed back at her then turned to face the crowd again. People were happy and vibrant. They saw the whole world ahead of them and it was a happy and peaceful place for them. Their celebration gave her hope. She felt the nation's joy swell in her heart.

"It's not all pain," said Edie.

Nick turned back around and caught her admiring the scene. Nick smiled and took her hand.

Since glinting the Great Fire, Nick could remember the following events from her own life as it was yesterday. She felt another tear tracing down her check as the colours started to streak into one another again, this time feeling like it was by her own accordance. She kept her eyes open to see the scenery change back to how it was. She felt many slices of time swish past, and had the feeling that she could have controlled it if they both tried hard enough. But she let time run past in flash chunks with Edie travelling with her, right until the end when they caught up with the present.

The cold air tore at their skin immediately and they both shivered violently. The tear on Nick's cheek stopped en-route and almost froze. The chill stung all the cuts on her face which she had forgotten about, and the numbing throb of pain in her joints ached back in jolts. The darkness of present night-time Cannon Street merged into focus and they saw the distinguishing shapes of George and the Friar zoom into real-time. Their hands slid down the wall and slapped into their sides as they forgot to take control over them once released. Nick still felt twitchy like the granules of time had not yet left her system but she knew it was only temporary. The girls went over to the others.

"I did it!" yelled Edie.

"Well done," said the Friar to Edie with a sly grin. "Not a lot of gifted individuals could pull that off. But as we all know, you're more than just gifted, aren't you?"

Edie hugged George and pulled Nick in as well for a group one. The Friar laughed at Nick's discomfort.

"Are you ready to come inside?" he asked.

Nick put her hand out towards the wall and stopped a centimetre from touching it, lost in thought and memory. She nodded lightly and started to walk slowly besides him. They once again came to the grand main doors and Nick stuttered on the boundary. The Friar bend his head close to her.

"There are shadows even in the corners of this palace of light," he whispered into her ear.

Nick took a deep breath and stepped into the Cathedral.

"Oh by the way, that Scouse friend of yours wanted to send his regards, and his thanks," said the Friar.

"Wirral!" Nick sounded delighted. It saddened her that she'd not given him a spare thought during the battle, and yet none of this could have happened without his help. "He's okay?"

"He sounded fine as a daisy when he staggered up to me, holding a large bottle of whisky and shouting victory wails down the street with his trousers around his ankles. He looked quite beaten up, and his face was quite battered and bloody, but with the amount of alcohol I suspected he'd drank, I doubt he much felt it. He spoke of you, burped loudly, then told me he was off to the Old Cheshire Cheese."

"Ha! Good old Wirral."

"I imagine he'll be a valued customer of mine shortly," the Friar said with a grin.

Some unlucky ones had to be stretchered to the cathedral, and George and Edie put their making skills to good practice. George had found Spout hobbling and had fixed a broken wing. Edie called Nick over to help. Very reluctantly Nick knelt down before a horse that had been slashed lengthways by a sharp sword across its side.

"I…I can't," Nick stuttered, aware of what Edie wanted.

"Yes you can," said Edie.

Nick hesitated and looked at the Friar who winked at her. She lifted both hands nervously infront. The pain in her hurt hand heightened and caused Nick to moan out loud. Then she forced both hands onto the round of the horse's side. At the touch the horse flinched and neighed but then relaxed. Nick only felt a small warm presence beneath her finger tips. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to feel and felt a bit of an idiot pretending.

"I don't know what to do."

"Just do what you feel," said Edie.

Nick closed her eyes and concentrated solely on the jagged touch of the split bronze. She felt the neighbouring sides, the serrated ends which had been cut into. She thought about how they would interlock, about how it would rekindle and become one, about how the heat was steadily growing in her hands. The heat became hot and the hot became boiled. The stone fizzed and bubbled as it liquefied. Nick's eyes remained closed but she could feel what was happening under her palms, she was freely able to move the molecules of the stone, push them along to knit into one another, closing the gap. Smoke was emerging from the bandage around her hurt palm. The heat was scorching now and Nick's eyes shot open as she tried to drag her burning hands away. She yelled and groaned, panic-ridden, but her hands were stuck and her face screwed up in pain and fear as surely her skin must start to melt soon.

But then her hands came away and she brought them clenched up close to her chest and curled her head over her bent knees to fight the pain away.

"Nick?" said a small concerned voice from Edie.

The horse stood up, examining its side which had been healed. It neighed louder and bobbed its head towards Nick before running off back to its master. The Friar looked nervously at Nick who uncurled a bit and brought her head back slightly. She unravelled what was left of the burnt fabric cloth on her hurt hand and examined the damage. To her amazement the edges of the sacrifice cut on her palm had themselves come together, cauterised, and seared as one to brand a red and purple fiery zigzag line. A symbol she recognised. A symbol she shared with George and Edie.

"Well how about that," George smiled at the unmoving Nick. "Now it's official."


	61. Go

"Here we go," said the Commander, holding a limping Driver under his arms and helping him down to a seat.

"Glad I had you to save my behind back there, boss," whined Driver with a groan as he clutched his hurt leg.

"That's what we do, stick together. And well done, by the way, you did good out there, kid."

"Thanks, sir."

"Hey!" another called from behind.

The Commander rounded and saw another member of his Comet tank crew.

"Hull. You're OK. Thanks goodness. Where are the other two?" said the Commander.

"Guarding the side entrance."

"You've done a good job protecting the cathedral."

"Wasn't just me. We all did our bit. Everyone was willing to help."

"Comradeship. That's what I like to see."

"Driver, my friend. What happened?"

"Got beat on by this weird servant who was all blurry. Next thing I know, a bloody cannon ball flew past me, missed me by inches. Should have hit the servant but it- well- I don't know, it could have been my eyes but it appeared to go straight through him. Anyway it hit a cart and a lot of things went flying. I got me some shrapnel. Commander found me and heaved me all the way back here."

"You're a lucky one, brother."

"We'll get one of the Makers to see to you. You'll be right as rain in no time," said the Commander.

"Thanks boss," said Driver.

"No one is you're boss here, we're mates. Equals."

"You got it...Sir."

The Commander shook his head and Hull smiled.

There was a warm mix of lively chit-chat and joy in the hall of St Paul's. Peace was hovering above in the arches of the Cathedral, humming a tune with a dazzling smile, lighting oil lanterns and covering up the windows with dark fabrics so the light wouldn't be noticed from outdoors. Some spits had gathered blankets and food and were passing them around to those who needed them. A group were huddled around a ring of lit candles, together singing an old spit ballad. A couple of ex-servants were hugging each other, thrilled that they could now live out a normal life and grow old together. George and Edie slumped together, exhausted after all their making. They sat in their own circle of friends, listening to one of the Officer's many amusing stories about how he was once chased up a tree by Brown Dog and was left there for hours, trying to persuade the hungry hound that it was much more beneficial for it to eat the apples that hung of the branches.

A babble of laugher surrounded them but Nick wasn't listening. She bit her nail anxiously and looked up too quickly every time someone went past her. A spit was wondering, counting heads. She wasn't naive in missing the two markable omissions from their group, but the thought of how many were lost from the battle was too much to cope with. She wouldn't be able to bear to go looking for answers. Remorsefully, it would have to find her.

She looked at her hand; the Maker's mark was still painful and blazing red. It had not fully healed yet. It would have done if she was still cursed. She had healed a lot before the curse had ended, but not fully. Her face was covered in half-healed scratches and her cut leg still panged. Her hair felt matted and her face felt plastered with dry blood, her hands were covered in it too, clogging underneath her nails and collecting in the creases of her palms. She didn't want to look at the gunshot stain in her hoody and her eyes thankfully obeyed. Her ribs hurt and it was awkward to breathe. Her muscles were sore, flaccid and lifeless. Her ears ringed with a constant buzz-like drone and her head had taken so many knocks that she felt nauseas with concussion whenever she breathed out heavily. She was spent. Her eyes drooped and she wanted to curl up into a ball and forget the world and sleep. Just sleep. She was too tired, but knew she was past the point where she could sleep. If she rested her eyes she could still see the figure in red with the axe. She tried to calm and reassure herself that she would never get sent back to that hell. She knew it would take a while to get over it, but she would in time, there was always hope.

She couldn't quite believe it, that they had succeeded. They had defeated the Stone. She looked around. There were groups going around and helping the wounded; other spits as well as and servants. The Stone was the ancient force which drove the split between them but now it was gone and everyone treated each other the same. They were fed up with the war. Spits were treated as humans now. Now, everybody was equal.

#################

"Finished the war without me, eh? Why the nerve…"

The Gunner entered through the door of St Pauls, threw down his wet trench coat, spotted the others and came over to them. He plonked himself down through baited breaths of exhaustion. The bronze had returned to him; Nick's power had left her and so had left him. Reset things the way they were made.

George and Edie's face lit up with excitement then harshed with a slight drum frown the next, a look the Gunner picked up on even though they had tried to hide it once they realised it was noticeable.

"Ahh it's a relief actually, you know?" the Gunner said to them. "I was too bloody scared with proper skin. A right fraidy-cat. Dunno how you lot cope. Anywho, this is who I am and what I stand for. My purpose. This is who I'm meant to be, it's why I was made and I'm proud of that. I'm glad I'm me again," he beamed.

George didn't quite know how to react in the Gunner's presence and shuffled uncomfortably. He felt too many things at once.

"I'm glad you're back, Gunner," said Edie.

"Didn't think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?"

"It wasn't easy."

"No."

Whilst Edie and the Gunner started talking to the Officer, George got up and tried to look casual as he walked to the other side of the hall.

"Well look who's taken the return trip to bronzeville…"

The Gunner looked behind himself and saw Gurk with a smile that reached both corners of his mouth. He laughed and the pair clinched a hug. The sound of their bodies clanking into each other sounded like two pint glasses tapping a toast. Gurk pulled away and threw a few air punches at the Gunner who playfully acted to be taking the blows and being beaten by them.

"I could have took you down, you know?" said Gurk.

"Oh yeah, why didn't you then?" said the Gunner. His eyes creased into a glee smile but he tried not to make it noticeable.

"It would have been too easy. I was too skilled. It wasn't worth my bother. Felt like having a little siesta instead."

"A siesta… courtesy of my fist."

"Yeah, you know that hurt, that did, a lot."

The Gunner's smile left him and looked mournfully sorrow. After a moment of stern pretence, Gurk's face broke into a sly smile and the Gunner released all his breath in one go and made a nervous laugh, red-faced. Gurk slapped the Gunner on his shoulders then his eyes found Edie.

"You must be Edie, huh? Heard lots about you. Max kudos to you. Name's Gurk."

He held out a firm hand which Edie took and was surprised at how gentle his touch was.

"Pleasure to meet you," said Edie.

"Pleasure's all mine," he said, bringing his lips to her hand, making her blush.

"Get outta here," the Gunner laughed and pulled Gurk away. "Thinks he's a right gentleman this one does. Think you're God's gift to women, don't you, son?"

"I'm a bonus ball, mate, gotta try my luck," replied Gurk, raising his head with aloof confidence.

The Gunner shook his head in an amused cringe and Edie chuckled. Gurk winked and saluted at Edie, then blew a kiss at the Gunner before leaving. Edie looked at the Gunner with a large grin and watched him face-palm in embarrassment.

"Remind me: never introduce him to La Delivrance," the Gunner muttered disconcertingly whilst biting his lower lip.

The Gunner beamed as he looked around his group gathered. Then his eyes caught Nick's looking sorrowfully at him in return. He saw rings of exhaustion surrounding them, but her green irises were deep beyond measure and communicating everything she couldn't say to him. He took her hand and pulled her up, leading her to a private corner. He stood close and swept her fringe off her face with his finger, exhaling a heavy sigh.

"Nick-"

"I'm so sorry, Gunner," Nick sobbed.

"Come on, hun. Don't say that. Not a crumb of this is your fault. I don't want you feeling that way. It's OK."

"George could have died because of me."

"That's not true."

"I released the Walker."

"And I broke my oath to him. That was my decision, my blame. None of this is down to you. I don't want it resting on your conscious. You got that, Nick? Yeah?"

Nick hesitated but eventually nodded.

"You got it, soldier."

She looked him over and still looked sad. The Gunner sighed and said;

"When you said I was like a father to George and Edie, I…well…it meant the world to me. It's like something panged inside. Made me feel human and I didn't even need a real heart. But the thing about those sorts of bonds is: it works both ways. You saw it in them the same way I see it in you. I know that inside you're still that small, frightened little girl from all those years ago, and you just need something to hold on to. I know why you took the bullet. And I don't disagree with that decision at all. You did what you had to."

"You said it, not me."

Nick's eyes filled to the brim with tears. The Gunner stroked her hair.

"Cheer up grumpy. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not crying," she replied.

"Course not. Must be some onions nearby."

"Yeah."

They stayed in silence for a moment and Nick then spent the next few minutes going over what had happened at the end of the battle. The Gunner mostly stayed silent, throwing in a few head shakes and heavy sighs. He put a hand on her shoulder and let it rest there.

"You've got real guts, girl. You feeling alright? You look like Death," he said, tilting her head back slowly in his hands and lifting up her eyebrows with his thumb to see her pupil's reaction to the light.

"Death doesn't look like me," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing," she shook her head and exhaled.

"Are you OK?"

"Well…no. But I'll live."

"I'll get someone to take a look at you. You've taken a few knocks."

"I'm fine," she lied, but it was said with such poor effort of certainty that she knew he saw straight through it. "I just need rest."

"Indeed you do. I wouldn't be surprised if- hold it there!" he exclaimed, noticing her hand for the first time and taking hold of it to get a clear view. "Wow. You finally got your mark."

"Yeah. Long time coming, eh? But like I need another scar."

"Hey, you're an angel. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"I thought you said I looked like Death?"

"And I said don't let anyone say otherwise. That includes me," he grinned.

"So what you're saying is: don't listen to you?"

"You shouldn't find that taxing," he elbowed her in the ribs playfully and she laughed, hiding how much it actually hurt from the pain of her injuries. "You could be a Deathly Angel I suppose, you know, one of those people who pretend to be all grumpy to look attractive."

"I'm not grumpy!"

She smiled and sighed heavily while they paused for a moment and he watched her eyes go back to lament.

"I'm still sorry," said Nick.

"Listen. I've told you. Don't go being sorry for me. I don't need to be human. Got all the spirit I needed from Jagger when he made me. I ain't just one guy, I'm forty nine thousand and seventy six. I'm all those that gave their lives in the Royal Artillery. And all that spirit, it's in here…" he made a fist and rested it over his heart. "But I never got a proper chance to thank you back then, so thank you. It took shear guts. For you to let go of part of your soul to stop me…stop the Walker…well, you really saved my bacon, George's and all. I can never thank you enough. All praise to you my friend." He squeezed her good shoulder and she rested her hand on his for a second before nodding at him.

Then she turned her head and scanned the room but she couldn't see George.

"You should speak to him. He wasn't looking too good earlier and he didn't seem right. I don't want him to go and do something stupid."

"You're right," said the Gunner. "It's going to be hard though, for all I know the kid hates me."

"Don't be silly."

"The way he looked at me earlier. I could see it in his eyes. He was scared of me, Nick. It was real fear. I don't think I can face that just yet."

"He needs you."

The Gunner nodded but looked as though it was a struggle convincing himself.

"I just never thought the Walker was capable of _that_ much control over me. I should've done my homework, eh?" he sighed deeply. "Suppose I'm just being a 'fraidy cat sitting here with you and avoiding it all. See Nick, everyone gets scared."

"It'll be alright. Trust me."

"I do."

And the way he looked at her proved that he meant it, and she knew things would be OK.

"I guess you were right about them stars..." Nick said.

"I'm always right." He raised his chin high in a pompous fashion before his brow started to crease and his face broke into a laugh. Nick cocked her eyebrow before the edges of her mouth curled into a small smile also. She playfully punched his shoulder and he ruffled her hair, much to her own begrudging annoyance. The Gunner said; "The thing about stars is, they're always there if you look hard enough for them. Sometimes you just gotta stop staring into the light."

###############

A man in a long tweed coat had entered the cathedral. He tried to stay in the shadows but was fully aware that eyes were turning on him. He walked slowly, head down with shoulders stooped and hands in pockets as he cast his watch around the hall. He stopped by a large column, rocking on his feet and looking back as if deciding whether to leave.

WHAM.

A fist came round the side of the column. The Walker's head bridged backwards as he felt the hard swoosh of air before George's punch hit across his face. He tried to arch back to lessen the blow but the fist made contact, stunning and knocking him off balance. But he remained standing. Then before George had time to strike again the Walker reached out and grabbed the top of his jumper. He spun quickly, bringing George off his feet and slammed him back against the column. He scrunched the jumper in his hands so it pulled on and dug into the back of George's neck.

George gasped, immobilised, feet wriggling to reach the floor, legs not given enough space to lash out. The Walker pinned his elbows into George's abdomen, the pain was unbearable but at least it took the pressure of his neck, that way he was still able to breath, if only just. George welcomed the pain; it gave him more of a reason to hate the Walker's guts. More of a reason to want to kill him. George's hands went for the Walker's hands, trying to open the fierce grip, but the Walker was too strong.

"Caw!"

The beady eyes of the Raven on Edie's lap looked across the hall but Edie had heard the commotion and was already getting to her feet. The Raven flapped once and hovered impeccably as Edie ran over to George and the Walker who were both glaring at each other with stony indifference, their eyes ablaze giving looks of daggers.

"Oh hell," said the Gunner, springing to his feet and chasing to the opposite side of the hall towards the disorder. Nick turned to look and then slammed her head into her hands.

The Walker felt the hum vibration of the pearl on his ear start to ripple as Edie neared, and he could see its gold light in the reflection in George's terse eyes. He gripped onto George harder, who jutted his chin out at him, daring him to make a move.

"George!" Edie called.

The sound of Edie's shout seemed to deter both of them from making the next move. The Walker was the first to break eye contact as his eyes flicked around the room, noticing numerous spits looking at him. Some had stood up and were holding weapons, edging towards them. The Gunner had also approached.

"Get off him."

The Walker didn't so much as drop George, but pushed him down hard so the jolt of pain from his feet hitting the stone floor ricochet all the way up his back. George gritted his teeth, not allowing the Walker the pleasure of seeing him in pain, and stood up straight to gain balance just before the Walker shoved him away firmly. The two of them now stood yards apart.

The Gunner edged forward and put a hand on George's shoulder to hold him back, but George immediately jumped away at his touch and shrugged out of his hold timidly, something which surprised the Gunner and rooted him to the spot. George moved a few yards away and then remained still, eyes still burning a whole in the Walker who seemed unbothered and distracted as he spat out red fluid to the floor and wiped away a trickle of blood running from his nose. Edie raced over to them and grabbed George, pulling him away to the other side of the hall. He resisted but eventually shrugged Edie off him and turned his back on the Walker, walking back away to the other side of the hall.

"You shouldn't be here" said the Gunner, trying to keep his voice calm.

"I shouldn't have been here for the last three centuries but here I still am," said the Walker, a fixed-hard stare wavering at the blood on his hands with an undisguised face.

"Pity."

The Walker smiled unconvincingly and then the hum of the pearl died away.

Like George, the Gunner was angry with the Walker and like George, he wanted to kill him. What the Walker had made him do- or almost do- to George was savage and ruthless and he deserved nothing more than to be humiliated and brought down right now. Even him entering the cathedral had been crossing the line; a way to demean and belittle the brave spits here to even dare walk besides them. But there had already been enough killing tonight and the Gunner was exhausted. Any more fighting would just make things worse. George and others would be encouraged to start up again, and he didn't want to be the blame for the start of more fighting.

"I know why you're here," said the Gunner. "Do you think that's wise?"

"Anyone could figure out that I'm not here to pray."

"Maybe you should."

The Gunner held his revolver firmly and raised the angle of it towards him.

The Walker rolled his eyes.

"This seems familiar."

Nick had seen George hit the Walker but had been too hesitant and reluctant to break it up. She had been at the centre of all this and just needed things to play out without her for once. She couldn't deny that the Walker deserved it. But now she found herself making her way across the hall anyway, George barging past her in the opposite direction with Edie following. As she arrived next to them she saw the Gunner drop his gun to his side and he caught her eye. She stood next to the Walker who was still glaring at George walking away. The Gunner looked at her, then to the Walker, then back at her with a concerned look.

"It's like what you were saying, Gunner…about the stars and the light…" said Nick.

They both understood each other and the Gunner lingered a sympathetic nod towards her and left the two of them alone to go and have a smoke outside.

The Walker quite literally turned a blind eye to her, paying no attention as he turned his back and exhaled heavily, leaning against the column with his hands outstretched and his head down. He spat on the floor again. He then looked around the room, not reacting to Nick's presence as he scanned the floor. He knew he should have been more wary. Then he spotted the Raven, perched on a nearby candle holder. It's beady, little black eyes and sharp beak could have almost been smiling at him. The Walker snarled and the Raven flew off.

Nick hesitated, not knowing what to say. She could see his frustration. She thought he might feel like an outcast after everything he had done to serve the Stone in the past. He was feeling uneasy at the fact he couldn't hide in plain sight with all the spits around. They both felt that.

George huffed and let out a small grunt of anger as he reached the other end of the hall and sat down. His face was harsh and contorted. Edie followed and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave him" she said.

"He tried to kill me!" said George.

His anger was brewing, he made fists with his hands. Edie looked at the grim visage of her brother. He still looked rough from his confrontation with the Gunner. Little lines of burst vessels filled the white of his blood-shot eyes. They were sullen and hung in their sockets. His cheek bones were gaunt and speckled with blood splatter. She felt worse for wear herself. She imagined with horror what she must look like. Her hair was in painfully knotty straggles and she knew she had a large gash above an eyebrow from a piece of wood which had flown past. It still felt like there were some splinters in it. It throbbed painfully when she blinked but at least it had stopped bleeding for now. She kept telling herself that they were extremely lucky. It could have been worse. She'd seen worse.

"Edie?" said a frustrated George, trying to find a reply from her. A reply that would tell him that he was right. That he was the innocent one. Not that monster, who tried to have him murdered.

"The Walker tried to kill me!" he repeated.

"I know he did, George."

"And he _did_ kill you! What's gotten into you?"

Edie frowned and looked divided. She didn't know how she would have coped if she'd lost George. And in such a brutal way. A way which would have irreparably damaged the Gunner's future as well. The fallout of having to come to terms with killing his own friend, it would have crushed him. It seemed to have already had a bad effect. He felt disgraced, the Gunner had told her privately, and no matter how many times she disagreed with him or how many times George had told him that things were okay between them, that it wasn't his fault and not to apologise, he still felt diminished and dishonourable. She could see it in the way he looked at him. The thought of 'what if?' to him was mortifying.

"But he helped us" she whispered, not really wanting George to hear her because she knew he would turn on her.

George looked deflated. His eyebrows squared closer to his narrowed eyes and the side of his top lip arched up in bugged disappointment. He turned his eyes away from her and looked at the Walker and Nick who were talking to each other in hushed whispers across the hall.

"No he helped himself. He wanted me dead."

"Well he's not trying to kill you now, is he?"

Edie watched as George stayed uptight for a moment, before leaning back against the wall and relaxing his hands but his face remained sharp as he glared back at her.

"What, so you're just…forgiving him? After everything he's done to us Edie, after everything he's done to you."

"Of course I'm not, George!" she shouted back at him. Her raised voice echoed around the hall and she embarrassingly glanced around as other spits turned their looks to her. Her cheeks went red as she caught Nick's eye and looked away shamefully. _What must Nick think?_ After everything Nick had done to help them; putting herself at risk, betraying her own side to follow her own principles and sense of right…she had done so much to save them and yet Edie and George were still squabbling and causing a stir for petty vengeance."All I'm saying…" she carried on whispering, "is that if it wasn't for him we wouldn't have won."

"He just wanted to be free. He doesn't care that we won. He doesn't care about us."

"He doesn't care about _us_, no, but…" Edie cut off whilst looking back at Nick.

George followed her eyes and begrudgingly accepted. He shrugged and unclenched his hands, then leant back into the wall and closed his eyes while he sighed earnestly.

Nick thought about many things she wanted to say, all fighting for a place to get out first. Her confusion and exhaustion very quickly span into something she didn't understand, and so she tuned it into anger.

"I hate you!" she bellowed.

She struck out her hand which slapped across his face in a white flash. The Walker's head got taken to one side, but after a short pause came back around and loose strangles of hair hung over his cheeks in drapes. There was no emotion in that steely face.

"I hate you," Nick repeated. "I should kill you for what you did to them. For what you've done to everyone. For what you've done to _me_."

The Walker still didn't say anything. Nick's jaw locked and grinded with contempt at his void response, his disinterest and his lack of concern. He relaxed his shoulders, blinking and breathing slowly.

Nick felt her words turning into actions, but instantly realised that she couldn't gather the might to strike him again. She couldn't keep it up. Couldn't stay angry at him. What was the point? Her temper subdued with her burnt-out mind, soaking up any residue of energy left in her. It was a worthless cause. She knew there was no worth in arguing against the Walker about his moral compass. It broke a long time ago. And if Nick stayed mad every time he did something terrible, she would soon forget what happiness felt like.

Nick's mood slowed into a drunken solace very quickly, giving up entirely on a stance against him. Her eyes pointed something out to her before her mind could catch the vibe, and she completely forgot that only a second before, she'd been shouting at him.

"You're bleeding," she said quietly in surprise and somewhat concern.

"Am I?" he jeered.

The sarcasm in his voice set at maximum was not enough for Nick to despise him. With the blood covering his hands, his mouth and the floor, it made Nick feel quite dumb at pointing out the obvious. But they both appreciated that it wasn't what was actually happening that was giving them cause for concern, it was the meaning behind it.

The two of them stood towards the back of the hall, separated from the gathering. Both of them felt more at ease being away from everyone else.

"Looks like you did it. You're free" said the Walker, his voice sounded course and not exactly congratulatory.

"Not me. _We_. Us."

The Walker looked at the blood on the floor and bit his lip.

"What happens now?" Nick questioned.

"We move on."

"What will you do?"

"I doubt I'll stay in London."

"You're leaving?" Nick's voice was a little shocked and tainted with sadness.

"I can't stay here, not after everything that's happened."

"Then I'm coming with you."

The Walker sighed and broke into smile.

"You belong here. You have them now" he nodded towards George and Edie but made sure he didn't catch their eyes.

"But what am I suppose to do? It's always been us. I'm nothing without you."

"You are everything without me."

She paused. He was leaving her again, like he always did when she was small.

"What am I suppose to do now? I'm no one."

"We were no ones before. Now you're someone. You're bright. You'll figure something out, I know you will. You're still part of this unLondon, the spits and the tallymen will help you, and so will the servants… ex-servants now I suppose. We're all in the same boat. They won't forsake you, they owe you everything."

Neither of them said anything for a moment. The silence was interrupted by a raised voice from the far wall. Nick turned her head and saw Edie glancing around slightly more aware of herself. They looked at each other for a brief moment, then Nick looked back round, her head low. She couldn't bare look at Edie when her heart panged with so much guilt. For many years she had found it hard to control her emotions. Most feelings were fairly passive, like her heart had been worn down so many years that her emotions had become inert. Sometimes she felt nothing at all. Yet now she hated herself for Edie's sake. _What must Edie think of her still standing besides him after all that had happened?_ Nick turned back to look at the Walker.

"Thank you for saving me," she said. It was something she would never admit before but right now nothing seemed as important as it used to. It seemed to surprise him too.

"When?"

Nick took a moment to interpret how he'd said it. It wasn't a question of forgetfulness or misinterpreted actions. It was cynical and prudent, and it managed to raise a small smile to Nick's lips because he was mocking her, and the more she thought about it, the longer the list grew of all the times he had actually preserved her life. But then he decided to let her off.

"Aemilia was trouble. I should have done that a long time ago."

"I never meant that. I meant the fire. You saved my life. I never told you how grateful I was."

"I did what I did because of who I am. I use people. Lampard was right, you know. He started the fire because he feared what people like you would become. But I saw an opportunity. I had stars in my eyes. I rescued you for my greed, my position, my power. To get what I didn't deserve but wanted to own anyway."

Nick felt an instant gut pang of sadness but maybe it was best to hear the truth. Or maybe he was just pushing her away because it would be easier. After she had assessed her initial reaction she realised she should have been sadder, but the logical part of her brain must have been on shift at the moment and she accepted everything without a hint of denial or betrayal.

"I know," she agreed, then looked at George and Edie again when she spoke. "I did the same with them. But things change, they always do. Now, I know I was wrong, and I would never do anything to hurt them."

They shared another moment of looking deep at eachother.

"When the curse broke…I saw something," Nick didn't know how to word it.

The Walker looked down and nodded.

"Do you know who it was?"

Nick looked surprised.

"I never said it was a who" she said with a raised eyebrow.

"No, but I know it was."

"…Why did I see them?"

"Because you made a pact with the Stone. Your words were made on truth but the Stone's were made on lies and deceit. You saw your parents because it was the memory of an oath made on a broken promise. But that's all it was, a memory".

Nick looked to the floor in gloom.

"What did you see?"

The Walker took a step back and looked away.

"Something I don't want anymore."

He paused then took a hand into his pocket and brought out a scrap of paper.

"Anyway, recognise this?"

"Yeah."

It was the paper from Nick's travels- the one she had written disloyal remarks on. The Walker looked at her and brought out a match. He struck it against the column and held it underneath the paper. Nick watched as it caught alight, burnt and turned to ash falling to the floor.

"Thank you" Nick said, staring at the shrinking amber particles left on the ground.

He looked down at the ashes as well.

"Will I ever see you again?" she asked, the sound straining in her voice.

"I can't say."

Nick's face broke and she looked down at her feet, wondering why her eyes had started crying, when suddenly he took hold of her wrist and pulled her close into an embrace which they held for a while. A move which expressed everything they couldn't say. When they broke away he gently took her hand and turned it so her palm was face up. Slowly she uncurled her fingers, showing him the mark on her hand.

"Here…" he let go of her and went for his ear, removing the small pearl from the loop earring. "You'll be needing this."

He placed the pearl in her hand. Nick wondered why it was not glowing and she looked around. The answer had hit het even before she finished thinking the question. There weren't any taints here, they had all gone and the servants were no longer cursed.

There was no danger here.

They were safe now.

She was safe.

She turned the pearl over in her hand and felt the smooth ball between her thumb and finger. She felt stronger already.

"Why did I see this glow? The first time in the alley, it was gold. I was still cursed then, so what gives?"

"You've always beena Glint and a Maker because it's in you're veins. The Stone just inhibited you using that power. A servant can not be a Key. As long as you were cursed you could never beat it. You needed the Glint- Edie- to break the Stone's hold on you. The thing is, we were never invisible, we just made people _think _we were gone. Made them forget. The Stone did the same with your powers. But you started fighting against it and all the passion in your heart and all that hope made your powers come to the surface again. No one can take away who you truly are."

Nick went to say one last thing, but refrained. It didn't need saying. The two of them looked into each others eyes. Nothing needed to be said at all. Their long history spoke for them and now it was time for them to part. He turned and walked away from her. She watched him leave.


	62. Choice

"It's not right," said the Officer. He and George had just watched the Walker depart the cathedral. "Letting him leave. Just walking away that easily. He doesn't deserve it."

"You're right," replied George, who was looking at a blank Nick who continued to stare into the empty space around the door at the exit. "But now's not the time."

"Well," sighed the Officer, "at least it's a little remittance that he probably won't be coming back."

"For her sake, he better not."

"For her sake, he won't," said Edie, breaking into the conversation.

Edie had also seen the Walker leave and in that moment her heart had ached. She was drowning again, having her head pushed under the cold night air into the dark eclipse of the iced-over Thames. She struggled against fear, trapped under death's wings whilst salt filled her lungs and her muscles pulled with exhaustion. All the while, the Walker knelt above, hand pushing her deeper into the black abyss, a smile tainted red by the flickering torches of the Frost Fair.

Letting him get away ripped a gaping hole inside her, screaming for justice that would never be delivered. Somewhere inside hid the truth, being beat upon and tortured, but she knew she'd made the right decision- letting him leave- even though she hated herself for agreeing. Hated the goodness in her for putting others first. A hatred she knew was also love, a love of sacrifice and of sacrifices made unto her. A debt repaid.

"Come on," she said, walking them back to the others.

####################

The Walker stepped down the front steps and brought his hood far over his head. The cold bit down on him again, a shock to the system after being inside the warm walls of St Pauls. He didn't delay. He walked away, not looking back.

"Even Achilles had his heel..."

The Walker broke off his pace and rotated on one heel slowly to face the voice. The Gunner leant propped up against the wall with his legs crossed, exhaling a large smoke ring into the dark air around them.

"I didn't think sentiment was a word that appeared in your dictionary, Walker," the Gunner puffed.

"Who said it is?" the Walker replied with a distracted and uninterested swagger. He took a moment to leer in the Gunner's presence with an unconvincing smile. "Couldn't hack it as a real boy, I see. Shame, but don't be worried, you'll still be of worth as a roundabout pigeon stand."

The Gunner stood straight and chortled a worthless smile with a faint shake of his head. He walked over.

"I'm more of a man than you'll ever be, human or not. But I gotta hand it to you, you ain't as cold-blooded as I had you down for," the Gunner remarked.

"You say that like you know me."

"Still too lukewarm for my liking. In fact, I'd like nothing more than to see your murdering hide trapped in that hellish cellar you call a dream, alone and in the dark, just left to rot like the poor girls gone before. Still, I can't deny you some merit. Nick's a good'un. She's made of the right stuff."

"Not bronze then?"

The Gunner stared back menace at the cajoling Walker and said, "If even your demented soul didn't craze her then she must me made out of bloody gold."

"She's certainly withstanding, I grant, but no one is unbreakable."

"You gave her everything she needed to fight against you and win. Looks like _you're_ the one that broke."

"It's funny, really, how you praise her, oath-breaker. You rigged my dream of four castles then you let the boy thwart me and turn me to stone. You left me for dead twice and on both occasions it was because of the servant you believe has a 'heart-of-gold' that I stand here today."

"And it's because of her that whatever plans you had to tap into the Stone's power are forever denied."

"It's because of her that I'm free."

"Maybe so, but on a more personal level, she made it happen so that I'm not your lackey anymore."

"Yes. That was unfortunate."

"It's because she's too saintly. She's got morals. She did it for the bigger reasons. The same reason I never gave you my last bullet. It was for the greater good. Don't think all she did was just to save you."

"If that's what you think."

"What are you saying?"

"She's mine, Gunner. She'll always be mine."

"You ever hurt her again, I'll kill you. That counts for George and Edie as well."

The Walker's eyes flickered over the Gunner's shoulders and the Gunner looked back to the cathedral door but saw nothing. He span back round quickly thinking the Walker would be ready to grab him, but the Walker remained still and was now looking right back at him. The Walker leered.

"Your little parasites can get back to the trivial pleasantries of the mundane quarters of their pitiful existence. And you can get back to what you call living."

"How kind of you."

The Walker scoffed.

"I should kill you," the Gunner said more forcefully. "Hell knows you deserve it, and hell deserves you. I'd do it for all them Glints, especially the one I had to disturb when trying to leave your flea-pit of torture. I'd do it for her."

"Ah, so you did dig yourself out. I did wonder. Not very sophisticated, mind, but then I suppose you're use to crawling around in the dirt."

"My threat wasn't a figure of speech, but then I bet you've come to realise that." The Gunner nodded at the Walker's mouth where George had punched him. He gave a moment to let the words bury. "Right hook. Nice. You'll have an absolute shiner tomorrow."

The Gunner took another big inhalation of smoke and blew it out in the Walker's face. The Walker closed his eyes as it billowed around him and gathered in his nostrils and chocked his throat, but he kept his ground and didn't take a step back. Nor did he let his face flinch. The Gunner made eyes to reiterate his point and the Walker stayed quiet, rimming the inside of his top lip with his tongue. He started to turn but then the Gunner said:

"If you knew all along why didn't you just tell her?"

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"Don't give me that. You knew what she was. You knew what could happen. Why didn't you tell her?"

"Where would be the fun in that?"

"You're a sick man, Walker."

"You don't know the half of me."

"I know the bad half."

"And she knows the rest. I don't have to explain anything to a two-bit likeness of a being."

The Gunner rested with a face that wasn't taking anymore cheap blows. He opened his revolver looking at the number of bullets left. One. Plenty. He snapped it back into position and held it out, aiming the shaft at the Walker's good eye.

"It would have killed her, wouldn't it?" the Gunner said quietly.

The Walker's face did not change, almost like he hadn't heard the question, or didn't care.

"Me, a spit, staying human. The power I would have needed to stay alive would have drained from her, fuelling me. And what ever was left of her the Stone would have corrupted easily. She would have ended up like…you. You got any regard for her left in you then you'd best leave now…while you've still got a chance."

The Walker lingered as if seizing up the Gunner's proposition, then stretched his back in a bored manner, twisting on his rocking toes at the same time as turning his back on him. His fading words as he walked away from the cathedral into the dark were that of a poem;

"_The Panther, sure the noblest, next the Hind,  
And fairest creature of the spotted kind;  
Oh, could her inborn stains be wash'd away,  
She were too good to be a beast of prey."_

The Gunner watched him leave then threw his cigarette and ground it down under his foot. He turned facing the wall and rested his head against it with his eyes closed, thinking hard.

"A servant quoting Dryden," said Edie, stepping from the entrance of the Cathedral and coming down the steps up to the Gunner. "Are we sure the world hasn't in fact ended?"

The Gunner looked at her, staring at where the Walker had just gone out of view at the end of the street.

"How much of that did you catch?"

"Enough," said Edie. "I think he saw me at one point."

"Checking up on me, were you?" the Gunner said, raising an eyebrow.

Edie huffed a laugh but then it faltered and died. She was still looking to the end of the street.

"Seeing him leave must have been hard for you to watch," the Gunner said, stepping closer.

"Let's say it was me choosing the Hard Way."

Edie turned then entered back inside the cathedral. The Gunner followed.

#############

Once inside the Cathedral the Gunner sat down near Edie. At long last Edie saw Nick coming back over. She was afraid Nick was going to just go, walk out and never be seen again, but in the end, she'd reckoned Nick had had enough of disappearing. Nick got close and saw a brightness escape her hand. She gripped her heart stone tighter, knowing it was now glowing gold, and put it in her pocket. Edie handed her a drink when she got close enough. Nick looked vacant but carried an aura of sadness. She tried to hide it but knew she couldn't keep it up. She plonked herself down on her knees. The impact looked painful but she showed no more expression than the gloom shown before. Nick thought the pain might take her mind off the confusion, off other emotions trying to make a stand in her mind. She wanted to lock them away, to let her rest. A small droplet of moisture caressed its way down her cheek but she failed to notice it. George approached and put a hand on her shoulder whilst holding out his other hand in front of her, offering back the Walker's mirrors. She smiled gratefully taking them and looking down at them as she wrapped her fingers around them tightly.

"-so what I'm just saying is…" Nick heard the Gunner say, "this equilibrium between light and dark- now the Darkness has gone does that mean something is going to take it's place?"

"There are many evils already here to balance it out. If not in our unLondon, then another." The Officer replied, "The Darkness was a bad force of energy and energy can not be created or destroyed. It will carry on in some form but not in our world, for that we can be grateful." He raised his glass and nodded at Nick.

"But what about the saying?" the Fusilier joined in, _"So long as the stone of Brutus is safe, so long shall London flourish__"._

"That's not a saying from our London remember, but either way the Stone is still there, technically speaking. It's just a lump of rock now. It's been ridden from the Darkness which if you ask me, makes it even safer. And besides, London'll always have the ravens."

"_Caw,_" the Raven crowed from Edie's lap. She smiled and continued to stoke it.

"What will happen to it?" Edie asked, turning to the Gunner.

"Well, George said he'll go and fix the split in it later. As for how it looks, well, that'll be the other world's problem. To be honest I won't be surprised if it takes a while until they notice its gone black," he scoffed.

Nick started to drift in and out of conversation. At one point she thought she saw the Gunner lead George away for a quiet talk but she wasn't really paying attention, and she had absolutely no track of time. She didn't care either. Even with a blanket she was still cold. She sat with the rest but kept just far enough away so she could keep her head down and keep out of conversation. People still had questions and they all looked to her for answers but Nick was none the wiser. And she wasn't in the mood to celebrate. Her hand throbbed more now. Deep in thought her hands went to the back of her neck and she bowed her head to take off the string necklace with the stone on the end. She held it out delicately away from her as if not wanting to make any sudden moves. A small pulse had started to ripple around it which she could feel somewhere within her. She grasped the rope tight but didn't touch the stone. She looked up briefly and caught Edie's eye then immediately looked away and buried the stone deep in her pocket. Edie looked away too, knowing what she must be thinking. Nick banished all thoughts from her mind and took peace in the emptiness that was left. When she pulled her hand out of the pocket she swapped the stone for the pearl and watched the gold light span out from the centre. It was in many ways her trophy. The ray of hope showing the achievement of her freedom. Even out of the bleak gloom of exhaustion she was feeling, the sight of her sparkling heart stone gave her strength. It was the thing missing from her life.

#############

George rested his back on a column support and felt his feet rocking restlessly. He also wrangled his fingers between each other, cracking his knuckles subconsciously as the Gunner paced the floor besides him, working out what to say. He let out a huge sigh and swivelled on his toes, squared up to George, and looked to him. George could feel his eyes upon him, and yet he couldn't find what he needed to say. He couldn't react. Didn't want to look him in the eye. Didn't want to talk. Didn't want to be near him.

He felt stupid, embarrassed, and most of all, foolish. He thought about what Nick had said to him, it felt so long ago now. That he shouldn't run away from the person who sees him clearer than he sees himself. He knew the Gunner was that person. The man who saved his life from the pterodactyl when they'd first met. The man who had saved his life from the Temple Bar dragon. The man who on countless times had saved him and Edie, again and again, and never wanted anything in return. The man who had made George a better person. His friend. He didn't want to put the Gunner in this awkward situation, it wasn't fair on him, he knew that, but nevertheless he did it anyway. He couldn't help it. It was still the Gunner's hands that had been around his throat.

The Gunner paused, waiting for George to say anything, knowing they were both thinking about the incident and it was most probably that they both had things they needed to get out, but for some reason, they couldn't. Maybe it was because they were men, and like men, they had been taught to act like men. Whatever that meant. It was a silly rule.

"George, look, I…"

The Gunner hesitated, really hoping that George would intercept. But he didn't and the Gunner tried not to feel hard done by.

"I don't know what to say," the Gunner insisted with a tone to influence George to say something, anything at all. But still nothing. "I'm so sorry."

George shook his head like he wasn't riddled with so much self-pitty, it made him feel sick for being so selfish.

"It's just…a little hard to overcome," George said finally. "It's not called the Hard Way for nothing. I chose that like you chose to betray the Maker's oath to help save Edie. Nothing could stop me being thankful for that sacrifice you made. Nothing. It's just a shock what happened as a result and I'm sorry if I'm making you feel bad, because I don't want you to."

"It was so hard. Knowing what I was doing, unable to stop. My head was screaming at me, my arms were straining. Everything in me was trying desperately to stop it. But my hands, my hands, they just didn't belong to me in that moment."

George said nothing. The Gunner bowed his head.

"Please forgive me," said the Gunner.

"No," said George.

The Gunner looked up quickly and his eyes widened a little. Then his shoulders sagged and his face mellowed. His tortuous eyes lost all hope. George couldn't bare it.

"I'm not going to forgive you, Gunner, because you don't have to be forgiven. It wasn't you're fault. I don't blame you. The Walker tried to kill me, not you."

"Thank you for understanding," the Gunner said. George thought that if he were still human he would be crying.

"Don't worry about it."

"You've grown to be a fine young fella, George. A great Maker and most of all a great friend. I'm so proud of how far you've come."

They caught eyes and let a moment of care and understanding and friendship to pass between them. The Gunner let out a long breath and then George's face stung with cold bronze as the Gunner pressed up against him in a hug. George warmed up to it, letting his emotions takeover, and suddenly remembering how his Dad used to warm up to him at night after he'd had nightmares. George didn't feel any less of a man when he started sobbing into the Gunner's chest.

The Gunner waited until George had settled and had time to catch his breath.

"Now wipe your eyes you silly buggar," the Gunner grinned softly. "Let's get back."

And throwing an arm around George's shoulder, the pair of them joined the others.

#############

Another man entered the Cathedral. His steps were shuffling with tiredness but trying to keep quiet. One of his feet dragged behind the other in a small limp. The chimes that fan-fared around his jacket whenever he walked started to catch people's attention. This man was used to having eyes double-take at him, but now he started to get even more wary of people staring because it wasn't the same. After a short while, he even started to enjoy it.

The Clocker noticed everyone deep in chatter. All except Nick. Alone. Shivering. He sat down next to her. Edie noticed him and her mouth fell open but she stayed quiet.

"You okay?" he asked Nick.

"Sound as a pound." Her voice was quiet and sad. She wanted to look at him. She wanted to throw her arms around him. She wanted to say so much more but just couldn't.

"You look hurt."

"M'fine," she lied.

"If you're sure," he said a little unconvinced. "Thanks…for saving me", he smiled at her but she wasn't looking.

"Y'welcome."

It was then that she looked at him. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped. She looked deep into his blue eyes and they were the same. There was no clock face present, no ticking. Like the Gunner he had changed back into his true form as well. He looked well, much younger and more human. Like how she remembered from all those years ago. A warmth glowered inside her.

"I-I don't understand," she stammered, her eyes glistening, her voice quiet and croaky. A pitch of awe and disbelief.

"I didn't make pact with Stone. Like you. When you had you're hand in it, for that moment, you shared its powers. Also had Old power at your control. Don't you remember it?"

Nick shook her head. That moment had been a blur but she had a slight understanding of what he was talking about.

"Well, powers combined. Unwillingly provided you with power to release me from own curse. I felt it too and I, just… knew."

"Clocker, I…I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything. You've done enough. More that that. Thank you. For everything. Really."

Nick really didn't know what to say. She looked forward and shook her head.

"And by the by, you don't have to call me the Clocker anymore," he beamed.

"Ashley," she said softly, looking into his eyes.

"Nicola," he winked back in reply "…or should I say Ashleine?"

Nick looked at the floor, embarrassed.

"You picked up on that, huh?" she said.

"The Gunner told me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he laughed.

They both laughed.

Both of them were overwhelmed. For Nick it felt good to finally say his name again and for Ash, it felt good to hear his name being said. Her eyes became shiny as they looked at each other.

George and everyone else had now noticed and they patted him on his back and shook his hand. He laughed as the Gunner shared a private joke with him. Then everyone walked to the other side of the hall to get some food and left the two of them alone.

Ash noticed the honey-stuck coating of blood stained into Nick's hoody and tried to contain a recoil of cringing guilt.

"I heard what you did. Saving the Walker…" he said with a guilty frown.

Conscious-stricken, Nick closed her eyes and prepared herself for another verbal torrent of how stupid her actions were and how it put everyone in danger. Her fist curled into a ball and hurt when her nails dug into the Maker's mark. Seeing the twitch in her expression, Ash gently took her hand and she let him with ease. His hand rested underneath hers, his skin was hard from years of manual labour, and yet they were still warm and comforting. His other hand uncurled her fingers. His skin against hers soothed the burning in her palm as he traced down her Maker's scar with a finger. He felt her hand shudder at his touch, her eyes full of emotion but unable to look.

"-you were really brave," he continued.

Nick was about to bury her head in her hands but now she looked him straight in the eye and her fingers curled back over the top of his hand. He didn't pull away.

"Although, never doubted it. You were always the strongest out of the two of us," he said.

"Yeah I could always beat you at arm wrestles, you wuss."

Ash smiled.

"I'm serious though, Nick. Like how you saved me earlier. You've always been there. For me. Like when we were kids. Just like it."

"I can't remember that. You were the one always picking me out of a puddle, wiping the blood off my face while the other girls stood there and laughed."

"You were. Without you I had no one."

"You had everyone."

Ash ignored her.

"You always had it inside you, that burning to do good. To do right. I overlooked it. And all these years I've spent putting you down, blaming you. I feel so bad. All you ever wanted was to help me and so. I am a fool."

"No-"

"Yes."

"No. Don't. Don't do that. Really. I've done so many bad things. For the Stone I would go against my better judgement. I would cave. I would follow it's word and succeed in helping it. I've wrecked lives. It would break me. The curse was always a danger I was repulsed by but- I- I hated everything the Darkness stood for and yet- I could feel it slithering its twisted wisps around the dark part of my soul. The part that should be kept locked away. And part of me just wanted it to be released. It would be so easy. It would put an end to the conflict inside me. The fight inside. I could just let it take over and then all the emotions would fade and I wouldn't have to feel bad about the horrors I carried out. I could feel it trying to break free, always. I hate to admit but the threat was alluring. The temptation overpowering. The dark forces were unnerving but also subconsciously cathartic, an underlying peril that raised the stakes like a bad drug; it marked and infected my soul to corruption, but all the same- the dangerous part of my soul fed from it." She brought a fist and placed it over her heart. "I still feel it. I'm mired in darkness. The curse is gone but I can't change who I am. I'm not good to be around with. You don't know. I'm messed up."

"No more messed up than me. After you saved me in the battle, you know what I did? I ran. I ran away, Nick. I did what I always said was weak. I became a coward. Hate myself for it. Knew I'd wronged and knew I needed to change that. Well, not change. Can't change past. Just alter ramifications of decision to be of least consequence. I chose to come back. Needed to fight. Put right wrong. Help you." He gave a long sigh. "You and me. Been through it all, eh? Life's complicated. You've just got to work through it and try your hardest. Everyone does wrong. Things regretted. All made bad in lives."

Nick waved a hand up but the Clocker pulled it down and cut her off.

"You have done bad things. Doesn't mean you should punish yourself for rest of life. Doesn't mean you should throw away any chance at happiness. You've suffered enough. You have done bad things, Nick, but that doesn't make you a bad person. You don't see it. I've been driving it into your head all these forgotten years that you are. But I was wrong. You're not, Nick. Bad you are not. Chose to be the hero. That shadowy part of your soul, it's inside all of us. You chose not to act on it. Kept dark urges at bay. The curse was a scar on your spirit. The strength you conquered to fight against it and heal yourself was formidable. But it never stopped you. You did it. Had all that power, all that ability. You had the chance to change things. Other servants would've succumbed to own greed. You didn't. Chose to save me. You did. What you've had to put up with from the Stone- and what you've been made to do on its behalf- you've been through more than I can imagine. Because of that you must be the bravest person I've ever known."

Nick's tears were close to spilling. She pulled her hand away from his and hid it into her hoody pocket, grasping her heart stone. She felt like she didn't deserve any of this. She didn't want the praise. She wasn't a hero. She didn't know what else to say. Ash stopped, seeing how agitated she looked, not wanting to upset her when he knew she needed rest.

"You never looked at my hand," he said sadly.

Nick looked down and he turned his palm towards her, holding his hand up with fingers outstretched so Nick could see quite clearly the new seared Maker's Mark, still red and blazing on his palm.

"Snap," said Nick, timidly raising her own scarred hand to meet his. It was a drawn out high five but when they made contact, their palms just rested against each other and hung in the air. They caught each other's eyes and became locked in the moment, until Nick remembered to breathe, pulled away and cleared her throat. Ash bit his lip to suppress a smile.

"Hungry?" he said, trying to change topic, "Chocolate always helps."

Nick went back to looking at the floor. She'd lost her appetite. She shook her head though smiled inside as she remembered a distant memory she thought was all but lost. He noticed how even with a blanket she was still shivering in the cold. He shuffled closer and slowly put an arm around her shoulders in comfort. After a few moments of comfortable silence together, she rested her head besides his neck and put an arm around him in return.

"I'm glad you came back," said Nick.

She closed her eyes, finally feeling free, like being in his arms was the escape she had always needed.

"Me too."

He watched her for a while longer, still smiling.

After a while, the Gunner walked over to him and expressed a tender delight when he saw Nick at peace after long last.

"I think she's asleep," whispered Ash.

"Not surprised," the Gunner smiled, "She was chinstrapped. She's been through a lot, we all have," he paused as his eyes flicked from Nick to Ash. "You should try to catch some Z's yourself."

"Huh? Oh," Ash went from confused to strange amusement as he pondered the thought.

"Not forgotten how to sleep, have you?"

"Been a while," Ash laughed back. The chatter had died down in the hall and he had grown increasingly aware of the absence of the ticking from his eye. Like Nick, he was in his own state of peace. He felt his eye lids become heavy and he yawned.

"Try and get some shuteye while you can. No hibernating though, I know you could probably sleep for a millennium after what you've been through, but we gotta be gone from 'ere in a few hours," the Gunner said, wagging a finger at him.

Ash smiled and looked back at Nick. The Gunner read his mind;

"I've got people watching the doors in case there's any trouble, so don't worry, she's safe."

"Thank you."

"Glad you're back, mate."

The Gunner then left and joined the Friar, who Ash noticed was also looking at the pair of them with genial esteem. They shared a nod and a smile between each other and then Ash yawned as the Friar walked off with the Gunner to the main entrance. Ash yawned again. His eyelids felt like lead. The drag of slumber was all around, enticing him like an old friend. He adjusted his position slightly and felt Nick tighten her grip on him. He smiled again and closed his eyes. Before long, the two of them slept in each other's embrace.

#############

"_Brrr_, cold isn't it?" said the Gunner as he stepped out onto the steps of the Cathedral. He pulled up the collar on his trench coat and rubbed his hands together, breathing warm air on them.

"Aye," said South who was patrolling the door with Westie. "It's all quiet out, Gunner, but I don't doubt a few of the more wannabe servants hiding out back, still ready to brew up a riot."

"Take leave," said the Gunner, "I'll take it from here."

The Friar entered out the door, passing by South and Westie as they re-entered the warmth.

"George," the Gunner shouted, having just spotted him sitting at the bottom of the steps. "You too, kiddo."

"How's Nick?" George asked.

"Sleeping. As should you be. Come on, go and get your two winks."

Just then Edie also stepped out and went down the steps carrying two cups of hot chocolate and some blankets, one which she handed to George.

"We won't be able to sleep," said George. "Besides, we're needed in case any spits show up wounded."

"What are you, our babysitters?" the Gunner scoffed.

George chuckled. "It's a long time until turn of day."

He took a sip of the drink Edie had handed to them and wrapped the blanket around himself.

"It's amazing what we've achieved from the bad odds we were given. And it's a miracle how we've all ended up relatively unscathed from all this," said the Friar.

"Speak for yourself," Edie grunted, pointing at the new bruises up her arm and the cut above her eyebrow.

"Well, we are doubtless not without our wounds, but it could have been a lot worse and we all know that."

There were a few nods but nobody answered. There was a hushed coughing noise and everybody turned to see two spits carrying a stretcher with a body on it coming towards them. They rested the stretcher on the ground and one of the spits removed the blanket from the body's face.

"What should we do with it?" said the spit.

George recoiled at the sight of the dead man, exhausted anger settling somewhere deep inside of him. Edie looked away. The Gunner looked at the Friar for guidance.

"Burn him. Bury the ashes," said the Friar. "And if you find a woman, there's already a place with her name on it at St Olaves. Funny how irony works, isn't it."

The spit covered the body with the blanket again and simply nodded. They picked up the stretcher and walked on.

"That man tried to kill us," said George. "Who was he?"

"A very clever man," said the Friar. "Never spoken to him myself. But a Friar has ears in all that come to seek him. I've heard whispers. Before they were servants, he and the Walker were partners of sorts. But even in everlasting life Lampard's lies and trickery were too dangerous to work with, and the Walker came to realise that he wasn't the man he said he was, and their goals were very different. Much is a mystery about their history but from what has been said tonight, The Great Fire finally put an end to their alliance when the Walker saved Nick and Lampard wanted her dead."

"It's weird picturing the Walker that way. A knight in shining armour," said Edie.

George chocked a little on his drink.

"That's going a little too far," said George.

"One day that always sticks in my mind was the day the Walker entered my pub and was almost…jovial," said the Friar, a weird sigh resting on his lips as he reminisced.

"Will someone hand me a drink so I can take some and spit it out in shock?" said the Gunner.

"I said _almost_," the Friar backed up. "There was a time Nick was gravely injured, so much so that it was believed at the time she may not pull through. Despite the curse."

"Oh yes, I could see why anyone would be jovial at the thought of a dying girl," the Gunner said sternly and George believed he was so riled up he may have to take a walk to cool down.

"No, no, Gunner, the Walker was quite distressed at the thought of losing Nick. It was what happened after..."

"Was that when she was stabbed?" said Edie. "I glinted it. London Bridge."

"Indeed," the Friar replied. "The Walker came in to my pub a while after that incidence. He'd finally gotten the upper hand over Lampard, because you see, he'd been in debt to him ever since Lampard saved Nick's life, and he'd been forced to do a lot of awful things to satisfy Lampard's gloating. He never told me what exactly, and I never asked for fear of the worst, but one day Lampard had taken it too far with his demands…"

"What did the Walker do?" asked George.

"Led him into a plan that was aimed to produce riches, but in fact was deeply flawed and only the Walker could see through it. He conned him and it worked magnificently. Lampard got arrested and suffered the Tudor punishment for his forgery."

"Which was?" George asked again, the height of his curiosity peaking.

"They cut his ears off."

Edie gasped and even the Gunner winced a little.

"Ewww," said George with a shudder.

"Not to mention that his time spent in jail, where he was not able to do his servant duties, angered the Stone. He was punished severely by it once he escaped."

Edie remembered the ringlet scars around Lampard's ears, and wondered what black power he'd used to try and heal himself with.

"What happened after that, between the two of them?" said the Gunner.

"Their peace treaty was ruptured and their rivalry went back to the old ways and stayed high and dangerous ever since. Fortunately Lampard left London, went travelling abroad, and the Walker did not have to bother with him again. Up until tonight." The Friar noticed everyone looked worn out and exhausted. "But anyway, let us not bother ourselves any more with the trials and tribulations of a dead man. Let us rejoice for the war is over."

"You're right, enough of the cheery bedtime stories," said the Gunner. "You two, off to bed now."

He issued a fleeting hand swish to George and Edie and in their worn out steps, yawning, they shuffled up back into the Cathedral and made peace with the night. The Friar stayed with the Gunner and watched the dark streets until their shift was over.


	63. Walls

Nick woke with a start and with a sharp jolt, looked around hastily, a ringing in her ears, her skin hot. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust but she could make out lumps of people sleeping on the floor covered in blankets. It was dark in the hall now the oil lamps had subsided. Small streams of dull light were coming through the cracks of the covered up stained-glass panels and small flickers shone by the main door, but it wasn't natural light. She figured it was not sunrise just yet but must be approaching shortly. Most of the night she had slept without thought, carried through slumber in a lethargic dormancy, a coma-like trance created from pure exhaustion. Towards the end of the cycle however, she was sure she saw something in her null dreams. Her mind was already trying to erase it; she could feel it being dragged away right when she was on the peak of remembering. She put her index fingers to her head, pressing her temples, concentrating.

And there it suddenly was in a brief capture.

Just one flash.

A street- cobbles- fire. The Fire? She wasn't sure.

It was unfocussed at the sides, darkness surrounding. A line of mist blew centrally ahead to a figure standing between two giant, stone walls that turned to flame. Hooded. Dark. The flames either side made its silhouette a deep, flushed scarlet. It stood facing her, still unrecognisable.

_Still_- that was the key word- she knew now it was the same figure as before- the one she remembered; only now it wasn't carrying an axe. Was it who she thought it was? She guessed she'd never know, not yet anyway.

Not yet.

She remembered more now. Her mind flashed with a noise. A sound of thunder, echoing around the void surrounding her. A sound Nick was so accustomed with that its presence ringing out from nowhere seemed of little cause for concern. What was more relevant was the ear-splitting boom that it presented with, causing deafening consequences. Even though Nick wasn't sure if she was cowering, hunched up, or covering her ears, she felt the pain of it; her ear-drums clattering with an intense, forte resonance, rattling her thoughts in the tombola of her mind. So loud it could fray her bones and pop her veins. Her balance was on the fringe with dizziness. She could have been screaming but nothing would have ever been heard over it…

The sound of Big Ben.

The commonplace, routine chimes punctuated the reverberating air again and again. The sound so customary, so synonymous, that Nick felt her self counting them without even realising.

5.6.7...

It continued all the while with blackening out drops, which must have been Nick shutting her eyes through the pain of the noise. She tried to keep her focus on the hooded ghoul which stood perpendicular ahead, the flames either side still raging but the sound now dampened by the warning siren of the bell. It was hard to tell with the face concealed by shadow but it seemed to be looking forward, to Nick's first person perspective. Right at her.

8.9.10...

A subliminal tension, the sound reigned high a counting with suppressed hiatus dragged out between bongs. The grid-locked suspension of pauses let her mind race to what would happen when the sound finally stopped and the silence took over.

11.12.

The hooded one reached an arm out towards her but then it fell by its side. It tilted its head to the side and slowly span a half circle on its heels and walked away as the towering walls of flames started to crash inwards on to it. A slither of ice air caught on the breeze of sound waves crashing into one another; a whisper carried on a gliding curve that was heard by Nick even with the background bellow, a drawn out hiss;

'_Memento mori.'_

She could no longer see the hooded figure, which had blended in with the sea of flames breaking down on it, hitting the floor, sending out flares of red sparks, growling and cackling as it spat out the heat. The roar of it increased as the holler of Big Ben faded to intermission. The monster inferno screamed and engulfed and consumed.

Lights from all over the blackness of the ceiling suddenly shone dazzling white light onto her. It paled the colour of the fire and blinded Nick until she dared to creep her eyes open to find out what was happening. She looked around her and the lights were casting out a dozen shadows, spreading far out from her feet into the surrounding darkness.

Then she got it. The figure. The fire. The spotlight. She was the centre of all this, and she was out in the open. Helpless. It was everything she feared.

13.

The last impossible chime was louder than all before, the sound a great pandemonium wail, bursting out with a tsunami of cold wind, sounding like shattering glass. The whip-lash of energy pushed Nick away from the core of the fire.

That was when the fire had erupted, the lights turned off and a noise which was more like a scream had sharpened the air. But Nick was already far away.

She woke up. The nightmare had ended.


	64. Sneak

Nick took a deep breath, mind still reeling from the too-real-to-be-dreaming dream. She heard a grunt beside her. She twisted her head and when her eyes adjusted, saw Ash besides her in a deep sleep. She smiled, pleased. Feeling too cruel to wake him, she got up slowly, lowering his arm around her to his side. She quietly took a walk around, marvelling in the cathedral's beauty. She wanted fresh air but wanted to be left alone. She saw guards at the foot of the entrance, so slipped silently to the side of the hall, wandering up the stairs through to the viewing deck at the top of the dome. Thankfully, she was by herself and so rested her arms on the wall and stared across the London horizon, to the faintest light sneaking its way up into the sky from the approaching sunrise. She felt on top of the world. Being above buildings and seeing people as small as ants below. The sound of distant traffic rumbled monotonously in the waking City. A few trawler boats skipped through the Thames water smoothly. Cranes littered around the place rotated slowly for the start of a new day of work, also becoming themselves an ever present icon of the always-developing region.

She took a deep breath out as the soft breeze brushed through her hair, clearing her head.

This was London.

She loved skyline views. Being up above everything else gave her a sense of control. An outlook on prospective. A knowingness that eased her worry of the unknown. It gave her a view of on her world, the collective inclusion of all that surrounded her. Her eyes lingered up the river and settled on London Bridge. Back in the old days she would often rest by the side of the bridge, staring down the Thames with the small waves lapping with the tide, heading out into the sea, wishing her thoughts would just float away with it. It was a way of finding self peace. A reckoning appraisal of her soul. Often, she would try to make herself forget. The only way she could face herself was to loose focus of every thought she had. She had to block out the bad, the dark that sealed every corner of her mind. She didn't have many good memories to override the bad ones, so had to erase everything, until there was just nothing left. That's what she used to be, empty. She'd lean over the edge a few times, trying to see if her reflection looking back could tell her anything else about herself. But she could not look at it for long, and decided instead to look through it to the dark depth of the river bed, wondering whether the waters would be merciful if she slipped and fell.

Or made it look like she'd slipped.

But things had changed. She felt none of that now. The darkness had been stripped bare and what was lying underneath now shone through. She'd proven it to herself. After all, Lampard had been the one to say Nick had shades of grey- not black- grey, which meant there was light inside her after all. She'd found it now. And she'd never let it go.

From the top of the cathedral Nick looked at the City differently. In the depravity she resigned herself to live through, she took London for granted. She thought it was only ever what people made it, which was usually cold and bad and unloving, even at the best of times. But she'd been wrong about many things. Certainly about this. It was a character in its own and it could be anything.

She'd been taught how things balanced out in the world, but had only witnessed the evil, and so had forever denied the existence of good, or that she was capable of performing it. What could she expect when she'd spent her life harboured and monopolized by people like the Walker? But heck, even he'd shown his hand and protected her, and gave her some kind of sanctuary, even if it was twisted and unhealthy in the ways he supported her. She'd been fooling herself.

It was still her home. It always would be. She had spent so long in London that time had passed, the City had changed and she'd evolved with it, to its ever modifying habits and developments. She couldn't settle to it back then because it couldn't settle itself. Time came and went. Centuries moved too quickly for her back then. But now she knew she would only see the progress of time advance for a limited number of years. And that was okay; she was growing older with it. She finally felt like she was part of it.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" said a strong voice behind her.

Nick didn't jump. She had gotten so used to people, most often the Walker, sneaking up on her and so had learnt to always cover her back. She always expected it. She turned slowly to be faced by the solid, gold spit of St Paul. Gold drapes hung from his shoulders all the way to the floor. In one hand he held a gold cross. Nick hesitated as words caught in the back of her throat. She dropped and bent down on one knee, bowing her head. The Saint paced up to her and placed a hand on top of her head.

"My dear child, rise."

Nick stood up straight again, avoiding eye contact, feeling extremely awkward and not justified to be in his presence at all. She remained still like a frightened mouse being watched by a cat.

"This City…" he said, turning towards the edge of the dome, looking out over all the cathedral surveyed from its peak aloft. "This London. Can't you just feel it?"

"Yes," replied Nick quietly, adding a "Father" onto the end, uncertainly. "Yes I can."

"It owes you a great deal. I included," he replied. Nick stayed silent, head hung low. "You don't agree?"

"I had a lot to repay."

"You are a saviour to this City."

"Thank you but please, I wish people would stop saying that."

"Maybe they will when you start believing it."

He looked at her with a faithful, heavenly aura. A righteous, systematical awareness which she found hard to argue back to, or come up with any returning words whatsoever.

"Let us not blame the world for fault or guilt or shortcoming. As imperfection is what we need to better ourselves. A Phoenix, you rose from the very ashes of the Great Fire and were given new life, a life which even if repressed and solitary gave you what you needed to find Good. For one only ascertains between good and evil if they are familiar with its opposite. The opportunity and conclusion of choice is the final judgement on sin. You were not overcome with evil, but overcame evil with good. Where sin abounded, grace did more abound. As is the truth of redemption. Sacrifice, like that of our Jesus Christ- that which makes Holy- is the greatest of forgiveness."

Nick bowed her head again, understanding just enough of his words to feel better. The Saint made a cross on his chest to finish. Feeling almost in the clouds herself, Nick took another last look at the horizon then went to the steps. People were packing up in the hall, rolling up blankets and loading carts with weapons and supplies. Nick found Ash where she had left him, still in a deep sleep.

"Hey," she shook him gently, "Sorry sleepyhead, but it's time. We have to go."

He stirred and stretched his arms ahead of him before exaggerating a huge yawn with a big smile.

She smiled beautifully back at him.

############

When the Cathedral was cleared, the Black Friar said a few words for all those they had lost. Day light eventually entered the cathedral and everyone left before the first parishioners arrived. Before Nick left the hall she caught sight of a little imp in the shadows reaching towards a nearby candle, near to where the Black Friar was standing.

"Wait up for me," she said as George and the others walked out. She turned back round to the shadows seeing a slight glint of light reflecting in the large, damp eyes of Little Tragedy lurking behind a column.

"Hey," she rushed over to him.

He sprung away, heading for the back of the church but Nick just managed to reach the edge of his shoulders and spin him round.

"I wasn't. Before you say. Don't tell no one, Nicky. I didn't take it," he whimpered.

"Take what?"

"Oh- er- no- what? Yep- Nuffink. Take something? Ooooh, sneaky. No. You ask- I do not know. Um, nice day ain't it?"

Nick was lost in his words and almost forgot why she had come over.

"Um. Whatever," she shook her head clear. "Listen, thanks for the… hints… you gave me, about the riddle."

"Hints?"

For a moment it was his turn to look baffled, he started to edge backwards on his feet, tilting backwards and forwards on his tiptoes while the shadows engulfed his face.

"Tosh. No hints I know about. No lions either. O!" He smacked his small hand over his mouth. His eyes were wide. He looked at her tentatively and made a deep sigh, resigning himself. "Um- time stuff, see things, err- the pub- weird- messes with me 'ead. Sometimes dunno whats now, then, next or none. Heh. Hints you say? I don't know anything, certainly 'bout hints."

"Uh-huh," Nick smirked.

His small figure was barely visible now as he edged ever closer into the dark. Before he fully disappeared his lips curled upwards and his eyes glistened and creased as he let out a large sly smile and cunning giggle. Nick squinted into the black but he had already gone.


	65. Gift

The Walker entered the apartment. The dingy place looked even worse when there was more light in it. He didn't mind though. He didn't think he would be returning anyway after this. He noticed the carpet, the large stain of blood dried into the woven fabric from Nick's gunshot wound. His eyes stayed on it for a while. Then he noticed on top of all the work on the coffee table was a note and a small bundle wrapped in paper. He left it momentarily as he gathered a pile of books and papers into a bundle and burnt them outside. He then returned to the room and read the note.

_John,_

_You said it yourself once; every dark has a light. You believed it too, once, a long time ago. Everything balances out. You saw evil and returned to this world thinking there was no point to this life. You thought this because you went through the Black Mirrors. I hope I can make you see differently with my gift. I hope you find what you are looking for._

_Nicola _

He smiled. He unbundled the package and his smile turned to shocked amusement. He had no idea how she had gotten them but it made him excited. His breathing turned heavy. He carefully folded the note up, a slight tremble in his hands, and slipped it into the side pocket of his coat. What he held were two small White Mirrors.

There was a snap as he unclipped them and held them out towards each other whilst taking one last look around the room. He stepped forward. There was a small flash and then the room was empty.


	66. Plan

Nick ran around the corner following George, Edie and the Gunner as they walked back to Jubilee Gardens.

"Ah there you are, where've you been hiding?" said the Gunner when he spotted her.

"Personal errand," Nick replied and smiled to herself, secretly placing the Walker's glass mirrors back in her pocket. She'd decided to keep them. It seemed like a fair swap.

Nick dawdled behind the rest, still exhausted. She was holding her hand which had now been properly bandaged. It still hurt and not properly healed yet but Nick liked that; it made her feel normal. She noticed the Gunner was lingering back as if waiting up for her.

"Go ahead," she said. "I'll catch up."

"There's something I wanted to speak to you about actually," said the Gunner. "I spoke with the Friar last night."

"Did you now?" she said back with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. He said after everything that has gone down you wouldn't mind any longer if he shared some insight on you."

"Whatever happened to confidentiality in the church?"

"He told me you'd say that," he replied with a small grin. "He also told me just how much you've helped us spits over the years. You really are a sly one, aren't you?" He grinned but Nick didn't reply so he put an arm around her shoulders as they walked and then Nick softened. "You're a good one, Nick. And you know what? Things will be OK. Everything will be alright."

"You really think so?"

"Yes. I do."

Nick let them walk for a little longer, actually believing it. But a smile broke out on her face and it wasn't something she could resist playing with.

"You know you've said that before, right? And everything went pear-shaped."

"Way to rain on my parade," the Gunner replied grumpily.

"I'm just saying, you jinxed it."

"No I didn't."

"Did too."

"Did not."

…the arguing continued for much after that. But it was great fun.

Ash soon caught up with them. George and Edie shared knowing looks with the Gunner. George smiled audaciously as Edie caught his train of thought and the two of them walked faster, leaving Nick and Ash to trail behind. But Nick soon caught on.

"I want you to have this," said Ash, lifting up Nick's arm gently. She recognised he was holding the length of string he used to tally beads on. Both ends had been tied together making a small bracelet which he slipped carefully onto her wrist.

"Thank you," she replied, knowing full well the value of what it meant to him. She could see it in his eyes.

He had a deep cut under one eye but it would heal. It all would. In time. She knew it would.

He smiled and carried on walking.

A little further on they walked past a black cab and the radio caught their attention.

"_More local news now; in an unlikely event an earthquake measuring at 4.9 on the Richter scale hit the City of London in the early hours of this morning. Seismologists have traced the epicentre to the City Temple area near Holborn. More details coming soon. Also, police have asked for any witnesses who may have seen suspicious activity near the Boots branch on Cannon Street between the hours of 03:00 and 05:00 this morning to come forward. Early reports show that there was a break in via a smashed window however the store manager has stated that nothing appears to have been taken from the store. It was thought that the earthquake which hit the area could have triggered the damage as well as the many fire outbreaks and damage to the street, but police may now also be looking into it as hooliganism, as over the road from the Boots store, the legendary Stone of London suffered similar vandalism. CCTV footage has been very limited but-" _

The taxi drove away.

"Huh. So they _did_ notice the Stone," said Nick.

"That can't be good," said George.

Nick knew that the police would not find any culprit and soon the whole story would be forgotten about. Maybe it was a good thing the Stone was getting some attention. The Lesser World, Nick shook her head, _this_ world, might finally pay some attention to the value of it. The Gunner cheekily looked around and smiled at everyone like a naughty school kid.

"Nahhh, don't worry 'bout that, they won't find nothin'," he said, threw a glance at a worried Edie.

"But wouldn't they have heard it, the battle?"

"It's lucky that not many people actually live here. It's the business district, you see. It's actually the second smallest population for any English district after the Isles of Scilly." He came to a halt. "Wow. Definitely been spending too much time with Dictionary. No one would have been around at that hour. Well, maybe a few, but they probably would have ignored it or thought they'd imagined it, like they do."

Edie looked a bit more comforted, and in her thoughts she smiled to herself.

"Who'd have thought such a motley bunch as ourselves could have achieved what we did last night."

"You're telling me," huffed the Gunner, looking around the group and smiling.

"You are a bunch of odd-balls, aren't you?"

"I see you didn't include yourself in that statement," said Nick.

"Of course not, I'm stunning."

"You're beginning to sound like Gurk," smiled Edie.

"How…horrifying," the Gunner shivered.

Edie chuckled and the Gunner beamed back at her.

"So, what's the plan then?" George asked.

The Gunner brought George close and pulled him into a mischievous headlock.

"Well, this time I'm gonna finish you proper, you little scamp" he laughed as he clung onto George firmly and gave him a nuggie.

"Oh yeah, old man?" said George, giggling. He eased his way out of the Gunner's grip and jumped onto his back, growling comically as the Gunner swung him around in circles.

"Boys," Edie said, shaking her head.

At one point George took great elation in miming exactly how he'd landed a punch on the Walker, taking great pride in the detailed slow motion action re-play that he performed dramatically on the Gunner. The Gunner laughed but sneaked in a quick, worried glance at Nick to judge her reaction. Fortunately, she found it just as hilarious. George got another piggyback and shouted marching orders to the Gunner who executed them in ways which caused Edie to combust in fits of giggles. Nick and Ash walked behind equally amused.

They continued walking. They all ached and pained with the effects of the war but they were in too good a mood to complain about it, or even notice it.

They were on top of the world.

"Seriously though…" George said after a while, now sounding utterly worn out from his exertions, "What are we going to do?"

The mood seemed to shift from dreamy to reality very quickly. He frowned and kicked himself for not leaving everyone in their ecstasy bubbles a little longer.

"A little R&R is in order. Just look at yourselves; a quartet of tramps!" the Gunner goaded, seizing up the extent of all their injuries. "All soldiers need rest. Especially the '_Soldiers of London',_" he winked. "We'll recuperate. That's what we'll do. We'll work out what needs to be done later. For now, chillax," he looked to everyone, all who couldn't be happier that he'd said that. "And…" he continued, breaking into a grin, "these old codgers have a lot of time to catch up on," he nodded at Nick at Ash, "I'm sure we'll think of something."

"Oi! Old? I like to think of myself as _mature,_" Nick hounded back in reply.

"Yeah, like an old cheese."

"You sayin' I smell?"

"Nah, course not."

He turned to George and Edie and held his nose between finger and thumb whilst waving his hand in front. They both giggled.

"Saw that," called an unimpressed Nick. "If you still had cotton undies I'd wedgie you good and proper like, and then some."

"I wouldn't mess with that kind of threat, Gunner, trust me" laughed Ash.

"Ooo, I'm so scared," the Gunner replied modestly.

"You was last night when Gresham's grasshopper got you," poked Nick.

"Oh yes?" said George intrigued, a creeping smile etching up his face.

"Grasshopper got him by the face, right, and then action man here was stumbling about like a clown and yelping like a little school girl."

"I was not!" blurted the Gunner.

"Really?" said Edie, containing a giggle.

"Wet his pants," said Nick, winking at the Gunner who was fuming. He went rigid with embarrassment and everyone laughed.

"What the Dickens? Look, I told you, this little lady has had one too many knocks on the head, she doesn't know what planet she's on if you ask me," the Gunner protested.

But they all found it more hilarious not to believe the Gunner. Nick scoffed and hopped about mimicking him being harassed by the insect. She ran up behind him and tickled his neck whilst shouting "chirp!" in his ear.

"Get off, you!" he replied, smacking her hand away from his neck, then rubbing it till the itch went.

At this, George and Edie burst out laughing so hard that it hurt, and when they settled down Edie got hiccups, which was enough to set them off again for another few minutes.

"Actually I knew Dickens well. Nice chap," said Nick.

George looked like he'd just been slapped across the face with a wet haddock. Nick nodded with inscrutable eyes. Mystified looks ricocheted between George, Edie and the Gunner.

"You should see the look on your faces! HA," Nick pointed and laughed. "Oh if only I had a camera. Priceless."

Nick high fived Ash and the pair of them carried on laughing as the pair of them went ahead, leaving the others left behind. The stood around for a moment then followed, clearing their throats and trying to act cool and hide their humiliation, pretending like they weren't fooled by it.

"Well you know the first thing I'm going to do?" said Ash, "Sleep!"

There laughter and playful bullying passed the time and before long they were walking across Millennium Bridge. But a loud shriek interrupted their happiness and broke their fantasy imagining. They immediately went alert and feared the worst again. The shriek issued from the side. Flying parallel to the bridge a pterodactyl soared past them, blasting its wild call into the sky. The Gunner drew out his revolver.

Once again the taint was straddled by the man in the white hoody. The top half of his face was still hidden but Nick could see he was smiling. The Gunner took a firm stance and squared his aim. George protected Edie with an arm across her. Nick and Ash just froze. The taint turned its bat-like wings vertical so it slowed and hovered out across the river besides them. As it hung in the air the man was looking right at Nick. He brought a hand to his head and chopped it down quickly in a paid salute of acknowledgement. Then Abby's face popped out sitting behind Mathew with her hands wrapped around his waist, smiling with an even bigger grin and waving. Nick saw Mathew nudge the taint with the inside of his boots and its wings pushed down hard on the air, lifting it higher while it made a 180 in the air and headed towards Blackfrairs.

"Oh no you don't…" said the Gunner, his finger laying on the trigger.

"No!" Nick yelled, jolting her hand out on the gun and pushing the Gunner's hand towards the floor.

"What are you-"

"It's flying away," said Nick. "They're not going to hurt us."

The Gunner looked back at the river and reassessed his thoughts. He grunted and put the gun away. Nick went to the side of the bridge and leant on the railings, looking out towards Blackfriars as the rising sun glistened golden crystals on the taints back. It curved its wings and waltzed peacefully, skimming through the air up the river.

A large black bird came swooping over their heads. The Raven perched on the wall of the bridge and caught Nick's attention. It looked out across the river then back to Nick, clacking its beak at her. Nick was so lost in the moment that the next passing thought in her mind caused her to jump with a start and forced her hand deep into her pocket. She pulled out her pearl.

Her jaw went slack and fell open while her eyes dilated with new found glee. Then her mouth found a smile and so did her eyes. She looked at the Raven and it bobbed its head before staring back out towards the river. Nick felt Ash come to rest on the rail besides her and saw his warm gaze on her. The pearl rested on her curled hand, nestling in the creases of her palm. The warning light showing the taints presence glowed a brilliant green. The luminosity at the edges was the brightest emerald hue, radiating the intensity of the glowing apple blush. The very centre of the heart stone was a tint of the purest jade. A colour which matched the beauty of her eyes.

"Would you look at that," said Ash.

He switched his look from the pearl to Nick and saw she was showing the most beautiful of faces through her lush eyes and smiling lips.

"It's beautiful" said Edie, coming to stand slightly behind on the other side of her.

"Well it might be small, and it's no piece of sea glass, but I reckon what you've got there is the heart of the whole ocean," whistled the Gunner.

Nick could do nothing but smile even harder. Words could not describe it. She felt George behind put a hand on her shoulder. Nick's arm reached back into her pocket and pulled out the string necklace with the stone on it. She cradled it for a moment, thinking, then let her hand extend so it was hovering outstretched above the river, the stone hanging down towards the water.

"What are you doing?" said Ash and Edie together.

Nick smiled and looked to them.

"I don't need what's in this stone. Not anymore."

Ash opened up into a smile.

"I don't think you ever did," he said.

"I think you're right. This is me now. Everything else, well, that's why they call it the past, isn't it."

Nick didn't even watch as she let her fingers part and the string slide through it. George bounded and looked over the edge to see the small plop it made as it broke through the waters surface. He looked back to Nick but she didn't seem to have a care in the world. She was back to looking at the heartstone. It was now dimmed and flickering. The green light turned back to the golden Key light as before. Nick looked down the river to see that the taint and ex-servants had disappeared into the horizon.

"The Thames always looks magnificent at sunrise."

Nick was half saying it to her self and half saying it to anyone who was listening.

"It does," Ash simply replied. "So easy to take for granted. Especially for people like us. Got to keep reminding how lucky self is. Have that to hold on to. Always."

Nick and Ash shared looks.

"You remember the Frost Fairs? The Thames was stunning back then" said Nick.

The mention of the fair was so unheralded that Edie's body jumped with an unorthodox chill down the spine. Standing slightly behind, she was not noticed by Nick who appeared to be too deep in thought anyway.

"Frost Fair," the words tumbled out of Edie's mouth without thinking.

"A sightly spectacle to bear witness. Angelic," said Ash, equally talking with his back to Edie. "Little Ice Age. Remember well. Took Edward once. He loved the little craft stalls with wood carvings and the like…" his voice trailed off and Nick saw the well of his eyes.

"My Father took me once" she said, her eyes also becoming progressively full of the past. "It's one of my only memories of him. Sometimes it feels so long ago that I wonder if it's just me dreaming." She took a moment to breathe. "Mum couldn't come with us because she was having a turn so it was just me and him…" She smiled with the faintest recollection. "Funny thinking about it now after all this time. Find myself remembering little bits. We got there and I was jumping up and down by the water's edge, so charged up with energy that I almost fell in."

"Really?" Edie heard herself saying in a high-pitched register. Meanwhile, her mind span into overdrive. Her stomach plunged as she shivered and relived the piercing ice waters of the Thames water gushing down her throat.

"Yeah. I was excited to see the elephant..." said Nick.

George and the Gunner's mouths almost hit the floor and they looked at each other like a bomb had just hit. Edie forced her eyes closed and felt the pinpricks of tears stinging the back of her eyes. She opened them just as Nick turned and caught her out, looking ever so pale.

"Are you alright? You look like you've she'd seen a ghost."

"You wouldn't be far off," Edie mumbled under her breath.

"Oh, Edie. You wouldn't believe how splendid it was. It's a shame it was so long ago. It was magical."

"I can imagine" said Edie quietly. She hid her shaking hands behind her back. George and the Gunner shared nervous looks. Nick went back to looking across the river, just letting her mind meander.

"I can't remember what my Father looked like but can still hear his voice now, and feel the touch of my hand in his. I was so eager to get to the centre of it all but there was a hold up. Dad was arguing about the charges the Watermen were laying down to cross the channel."

Edie spun around with force and shot a look which ricocheted in a triangle from her to George, then to the Gunner, then back at her. She distinctively saw George mouth the words 'Oh my God'. The Gunner was struck with astonishment.

Edie had first glinted it and then seen it for her self; the little girl in the green cape with her Father questioning the fee, all the while the girl pointed and giggled. The Gunner had been close to her, besides the channel edge, before he'd dived into the water and saved Edie. George had heard the child call about the elephant.

The unparalleled circumstances of fortuity were just too big to get their heads around.

And even as the thought of it left Nick with honey-glazed eyes and a lofty smile from the recollection of a happier time of her childhood, there, creeping into the corner of that memory was another thought, much blacker than the first. It was yet another one she'd tried to forget.

As her father squabbled about the fare she had run across the wooden plank and onto the Thames, her feet immediately skidding and her arms flailing.

"Be careful!" she had heard her father call out. "Don't go too far."

But Nicola was already balanced and skipping lightly over to the distant edge of the Fare where the dazzling light from the lanterns and the heavy hum of chatter didn't make her quite so apparent. She skidded across the ice a few times, laughing and lost in a world of her own when a splash made her stop and turn round.

In the distant spread of the river, in the shadowy obscurity beyond the red light, a dark figure moved quickly and crouched down on the ice. Then an eruption of water occurred from besides and the figure caught a tangle of seaweed that had come out from underneath the ice. There was a scream of words but Nicola was too far to understand them. They were rushed and panicky, spoken in terror. Nicola stood there rooted, the Fare suddenly shrinking miles behind her.

And then she saw a white arm come from under the ice and start to flail. Try to push the hand away keeping it down. Nicola's breath stopped and the seaweed became hair, and the shouts became the screaming last words of a girl about to die.

Nicola screamed but still didn't move.

"Nicola, what did I tell you!" said her father coming up quickly behind her and grabbing her arm. "Stay within the light of the Fare. It's dangerous out here, there are hummocks and ice holes. Come on."

And he pulled her arm so that she span round and his other hand lead her forward.

"But look!" she struggled and pointed behind her.

"What?" he father said and looked behind them.

Nicola paused as another figure, as dark as the other, crashed into the side of the first and the two went sprawling.

"What am I meant to be looking at?" her father said impatiently.

"Look. There," Nick pointed desperately. "In the dark!"

Her father stared and then grunted. "Honey, there's nothing out there. You're imagining things again."

Despite her protests, he father struggled but finally ushered her back into the red lanterns, the chants, the music, the chinking of glasses and the overwhelming aroma of hog roast. But even the marvellous elephant that now treaded slowly yards away from her could not delete the sight of what Nick had just witnessed. Nor the terror of realising that she wanted to get off the ice fast.

"How about that," said Edie, still stuck in the thought of this happening. This couldn't be. It was almost like they were linked in time.

And Nick snapped back.

"How about that," said Edie.

"How about what?" said Nick, turning to her. Edie looked so spooked when their eyes met that Nick was taken back and picked up on the strange vibe sporting the rest of the groups' expressions.

"What?" said Edie.

"What?" Nick repeated.

"Nothing."

"Right," Nick said and then pushed off the support railings on the bridge and made tracks. Ash followed.

When he was sure he was out of earshot, the Gunner put his hands behind his head and took in a deep breath. He then blew it all out again through puffed cheeks.

"Bleeding Nora!"

"That can't be possible" said George.

"Well it is, or rather _was_" he snorted a laugh. "Who'd have thought it, eh?"

George and Edie looked at each other again, still in disbelief.

################

They reached Jubilee Gardens quicker than they all expected and found a quiet spot on the grass. The Gunner looked peaceful, turning his hands over and looking at the bronze in front of him. He was reminded about why he was made and what he stood for. He looked from George to Edie and then finally Nick, who was looking back at him, smiling, each knowing the others thoughts. Yep, he was happy he hadn't changed.

George passed him and stole his hat with a cheeky smirk.

"Oi, Maker 1, you can have that as long as you promise me you and Maker 2 will buy some ruddy phones!" harassed the Gunner.

"Ha. Deal."

George smiled at Edie then placed the hat over his face to block out the sun whilst laying down on the grass, the same way he did when Nick first met them. He was grateful for the bank holiday, at least he had one day left before school. He sighed and relaxed once again, forgetting everything that had happened in the last two days like it was a bad dream. Except it wasn't all bad, he remembered the good. He now had Nick as a friend and he was safe in the knowledge that the Darkness wouldn't be around anymore and people like Nick would never get tricked into being cursed again. He didn't give the Walker a second thought. At least now it was over and he really was happier, the whole of the unLondon was. The 'normal' London was safe too, even though they didn't know. They would never know, which was in a way saddening but it was for the best. He didn't need to worry anymore.

The same went for Edie, she didn't need the urge to constantly look at her heart stone. And she'd made a new friend too. The pair of them rested on their backs and closed their eyes.

Nick relaxed too because it was the first time she ever could. She didn't feel like she should be wary of her surroundings, of anyone who could be watching. She knew she wouldn't feel any jab in her stomach, pulling her away from her plans. She didn't even need an exit. With her hood left down she looked around at the friends she had made and the friend she had rekindled with. She smiled and lay down on her back. She closed her eyes and spread her hands across the smooth blades of cool grass underneath. Then something caught it, a soft warm touch that enclosed around her fingers. Nick tilted her head and opened her eyes to see Ash lying next to her, a soft smile worked on his face. For him, the calming serenity of the gardens put his mind at ease.

No ticking. Not ever. Just bliss.

Their fingers interlocked and Nick smiled back. She couldn't quite believe how happy she was, and this time, she didn't mind people knowing. She looked up to the heavens and watched the clouds move way above her. There were no stars to be seen but she knew they would always be with her. All around. At last she was free.

END


End file.
